


let's cut to the chase

by LiveSincerely



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: A collection of little ficlets tied together through the 'kiss' theme, Ficlet Collection, I wrote these as an outlet for my election anxiety, Latino Jack Kelly, Multi, also fuck trump, besides the overarching theme, but I’m very happy with them, individual summaries in the first chapter, since they each have nothing to do with each other, very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 18,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveSincerely/pseuds/LiveSincerely
Summary: Because as much as we might love a good mutual pining, slow burn, getting together fic, sometimes you just wanna get right to the good part.Very Javid heavy, but with some other ships (romantic and platonic) sprinkled throughout. :)
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 229
Kudos: 126





	1. Index and Summaries

**1) Forehead Kiss - Javid**

> Jack watches him for a moment, shoulders tense and mouth thin with displeasure. Then the next thing Davey knows, he's crawling into bed beside him.
> 
> "Jack?" Davey says, bewildered. "What are you—?”
> 
> “I can’t just do nothin’,” Jack says, settling in with his back against the headboard. “Not when you’re hurtin’ like this.”
> 
> He opens his arms: a clear invitation for Davey to cuddle with him. “C’mere.”

**2) Domestic/Routine Kiss - Javid**

> “Jackie, love,” Davey says, lingering in the doorway. “How’s it going?”
> 
> “Fuckin’ _commissions_ ,” Jack grumbles. There’s the nub of a red oil pastel tucked behind his ear, which shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “God, remind me why I took this job again?”

**3) "You're Hurt!" Kiss - Javid**

> “Hey, you shoulda seen the other guy,” Jack says.
> 
> This is the wrong thing to say. Davey marches forward, looking for all the world like he might cock his arm back and blacken Jack’s other eye. But when his hands land on either side of Jack’s face, they’re ice-cold and trembling but incredibly gentle.
> 
> “Jackie,” Davey pleads, “you can’t keep doing this.”

**4) "You're Hurt!" Kiss 2 - Javid**

> “—ave? Davey, can you hear me?”
> 
> Pain. A twisting, aching pain. Shrill cries and harsh sobs, ringing and echoing all around.
> 
> “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step back—“
> 
> “ _David Jacobs_ ,” Oh, that’s Jack’s voice, Davey thinks distantly, though he’s not sure what to make of this realization. “You are not allowed to fucking die. Do you hear me? So open your eyes right this _goddamn second.”_

**5) Desperate Kiss - Javid**

> “You know,” Davey insists, bafflingly. He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I just explained all of it!”
> 
> “No?” Jack says, or maybe asks. Davey’s got his head spinning round and round. “Ya just, I mean ya rambled on about being sorry an’ all, but ya keep saying ya already knew that I—“
> 
> “That you don’t like me,” Davey finishes. He’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth, eyes cast towards the ground. “Not like how...” he takes a breath, then continues, “Not like how I like you.”
> 
> Jack feels like someone’s hit him over the head, several times in quick succession.

**6) Passionate Kiss - Javid**

> “Shouldn’t we be... taking this slow?” Jack says, except he’s pressing a trail of kisses along Davey’s jaw.
> 
> “You... started it,” Davey replies, tugging at Jack’s shirt until Jack finally pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. “What exactly... were you, _fuck, Jack_... expecting would happen?”
> 
> “You... are such fucking smart ass,” Jack muses, his voice rough with desire. “God, I love you.”

**7) Possessive Kiss - Javid**

> Davey’s eyes find Jack’s in the shiny, mirrored elevator doors. He’s thumbing idly at the collar of his shirt, and it could be an innocent action, except that every so often the fabric parts just enough to reveal the splotch of reddish purple stamped into the skin just below the hollow of his throat.

**8) Good Morning Kiss - Javid**

> “Jack!” Davey whines, batting ineffectively at Jack shoulders. “Get off of me!”
> 
> “What’s that?” Jack says, taking each of Davey’s hands in his own and pinning them to the roof, one on each side of his head. He rubs his face and head all along Davey’s neck and shoulders, just to be obnoxious. “I thought you didn’t want to get up—I’m just obligin’ ya.”

**9) Desperate Kiss 2 - Sprace**

> As Spot watches Racetrack walk away from him now, as he watches that curly blonde head disappear into the evening fog, he’s suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that if he lets Race leave this time without saying something, he’ll never see him again. That if he lets Race walk away, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

**10) Reunion Kiss - Javid**

> Davey doesn’t even get a chance to look for Jack in the crowd because Jack finds him first.
> 
> “Dave!” a voice calls from behind him, loud and joyful.
> 
> Davey starts to turn, his carry-on bag falling to the tiles at his feet. He catches the flash of a grin and those lovely brown eyes, and then Jack’s arms close around Davey’s waist and lift him right off his feet, spinning him around in circles.

**11) Kiss on the Cheek - Jack and Crutchie (Domestic AU)**

> “Hey, hey, hey,” Jack says, hurrying over. “Charlie, baby, what’s wrong.”
> 
> Charlie’s lower lip wobbles. In the quietest, most heartbreaking little voice Jack’s ever heard he asks, “Jack, ‘m I stupid?”

**12) Kiss in the Rain - Javid**

> Jack’s footsteps slap against the pavement in counterpoint to the pounding rain, chest heaving as he runs. Davey’s only got a bit of a head start on him but he’s taken every advantage of it, sprinting through the streets like his very life depends on it. Jack’s legs pump even harder, and he steadily starts closing the gap.
> 
> “Dave!” Jack says, shouting to be heard over the downpour, snagging the back of Davey’s vest. “Davey, wait!”
> 
> “Let go of me!” Davey yells back, twisting and jerking away. “Leave me alone!”

**13) Possessive Kiss 2 - Javid**

> “Huh?” Jack says, twirling Davey under his arm. “What are ya talkin’ about?”
> 
> “You didn’t notice?” Davey asks. He inclines his head back towards Alex Callahan, who’s still watching them intently from the sidelines.
> 
> “Who, Callahan? Naw,” Jack says, spinning Davey out then reeling him back in, and one of his hands lands on the small of Davey’s back, pulling him in flush. “He’s jus’ workin’ his story, wanted a quote from me about the art or whatever.”
> 
> “As far as he’s concerned, you are the art,” Davey says, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose it’s understandable—you clean up real sharp Jackie, love.”

**14) Domestic/Routine Kiss 2 - Javid**

> “Are you gonna let go of me so I can flip this?” Davey asks, and Jack can practically hear him arching an eyebrow.
> 
> “Nah,” Jack says, curling around him even more deliberately, hiding his grin against the nape of Davey’s neck.“‘S good practice—ya gotta be able to cook under pressure, see?”
> 
> “Oh, is that what this is?” Davey asks with a snort.
> 
> “Mmm hmn,” Jack hums, pressing a kiss to the high point of Davey’s cheek, just because. “Like on that cooking show—what’s it called? Imma _distraction_.”
> 
> “You are very distracting,” Davey agrees.

**15) Accidental Kiss - Javid**

> “I’ll see you in an hour,” Davey repeats, fondly exasperated, and he leans in to kiss him: a sweet little press of the lips. “I’ll even bring food for lunch, yeah? Unless you wanted to get hot dogs by the park?”
> 
> Jack blinks at him, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. He looks utterly dumbfounded. Davey looks back at him, puzzled by his reaction. Then realization strikes.
> 
> _“Oh my god,”_ Davey squeaks, mortified. “Oh my god, I just— I didn’t— _oh my god.”_

**16) Romantic Kiss - Javid (Sequel to Accidental Kiss)**

> Jack thinks of Davey kissing him, how it had been too short and too surprising for Jack to respond in any real way, but how he wishes he’d had a chance to. He thinks of the look on Davey’s face, of the tone of Davey’s voice when he said that they could stay friends and just pretend it never happened.
> 
> But he doesn’t want to pretend, Jack realizes. What he wants is to know what Davey’s smile tastes like, how Davey’s fingers feel laced between his own, if he can see the love in Davey’s eyes, now that he knows to look for it.
> 
> He wants it like a fire in his soul. He can't even imagine trying to pretend otherwise.

**17) "You're Hurt!" Kiss 3 - Javid (Companion to "You're Hurt!" Kiss 2**

> It’s throbbing, aching, agony, then a spike of terror surges through his soulbond so sudden and so sharp that it forces all the air out of his lungs. His glass slips from his hand—it hits the ground and shatters, sending shards of glass and pieces of ice flying in every direction.
> 
> “Jack? Jack!”
> 
> Jack hunches over, clutching desperately at his heart, barely able to breathe through the pain because it feels like someone’s picking their way into his chest cavity with a rusty axe, bluntly chipping at every last piece of him.
> 
> “Davey,” Jack says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. _“Davey.”_

**18) Forehead Kiss 2 - Javid**

> “Hey, Jack,” Davey greets. He’s sprawled across the couch, head laying against one of the armrests and his toes tucked between the cushions, a paperback propped up against his chest. “How was work?”
> 
> Jack just looks at him. He doesn’t even know where to start.
> 
> He must make some kind of noise, or maybe it’s just that he waits too long to answer, because Davey glances up, chin tilted in askance. He takes one look at Jack face and immediately places his book to the side, arms open in offering.
> 
> “Hey,” Davey says gently, looking up at Jack with soft, blue eyes. “Come here, darling.”

**19) Possessive Kiss (in the Rain) - Javid**

> At that moment, Davey lifts up on his toes, trying to get at a particularly stubborn bit of debris caught in the corner of the gutters, and the new position only highlights the way his rain-soaked slacks cling to every last inch of him.
> 
> Rooster lets out a low whistle; Jack grits his teeth at the sound of it. “ _Damn_ , that’s nice. I’d love to get my hands on an ass that swee—“
> 
> Jack shoots to his feet, so abruptly that the rest of Roster’s comment is lost to the wind. He starts towards Davey, something hot and a little frenzied scorching through his veins.
> 
> “Hey, pal, that ain’t a good idea,” Rooster calls after him when he realizes Jack’s intention. “Like I said before, he’s already taken, and I hear the guy he’s courting ain’t too keen on people tryin’ta move in on his fella. He’s the leader of Manhattan, so you proba’ly don’t wanna get on his bad side.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Jack agrees, more of a growl than a word, not even turning to look back at the other boy as he stalks forward. “You _really_ don’t.”

**20) Possessive Kiss - Javid**

> “Yeah? Remind me anyway,” Jack rumbles, gaze flitting helplessly between Davey’s eyes and his mouth. “I wanna hear about all the ways you want me to be yours.”
> 
> “Oh, Jackie, darling,” Davey breathes against Jack’s lips. “You’re already mine.”

**21) "You're Hurt!" Kiss 4 - Javid**

> Davey shifts a bit closer, thumb brushing lightly against Jack’s lower lip as he works.
> 
> “And picking a fight with the DeLanceys? God, you’re lucky they didn’t send the police after you. I swear, Jack, of all the dangerous, moronic stunts you could’ve pulled, this one really—“
> 
> Davey happens to glance up, and whatever else he might’ve said dies away. Because Jack is _looking_ at him, and the sheer yearning in his eyes makes Davey’s breath catch in his throat.

**22) "You're Hurt!" Kiss 5 - Javid**

> “His name is Jack Kelly, he’s twenty-seven years old, no allergies—not to any medication or anything else that I know of—”
> 
> Jack twitches, shakes his head and groans, because that’s not right, he’s not twenty-seven, he’s... he’s...
> 
> Fear hits like a lance to the heart because he _can’t remember._
> 
> Jack pries his eyes open. There’s a man kneeling next to him: twenty-ish, with dark curly hair. He’s dressed for sleep, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and around him there’s a large bed, a pair of nightstands, a dresser and an attached bathroom, but it’s all unfamiliar, and that sends another spike of panic surging through him because _who the fuck is that_ and _where the fuck is he?_

**23) Teasing Kiss - Sprace**

> “I’ll take a break in a little while, promise.”
> 
> “Or, you could take a break now,” Tony says, slinking over the arms of Sean’s desk chair and straddling his lap, “and come shower with me. It’ll probably make you feel better.”
> 
> “Tony,” Sean says, but it’s a token protest in all the ways that matter, his hands falling away from his laptop to curl around Tony’s hips.
> 
> “The hot water, the steam... _me,”_ Tony murmurs, hands trailing all along Sean’s chest. “Just twenty minutes.”

**24) Teasing Kiss 2 - Javid**

> “Careful, darling,” Davey teases, leaning in a little more, but not quite close enough. “Wouldn’t want to start something you won't have time to finish.”
> 
> "Then give me something that's worth comin' back to finish," Jack says, eyes flashing with challenge.


	2. Forehead Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack watches him for a moment, shoulders tense and mouth thin with displeasure. Then the next thing Davey knows, he's crawling into bed beside him.
> 
> "Jack?" Davey says, bewildered. "What are you—?”
> 
> “I can’t just do nothin’,” Jack says, settling in with his back against the headboard. “Not when you’re hurtin’ like this.”
> 
> He opens his arms: a clear invitation for Davey to cuddle with him. “C’mere.”

“Dave?”

There’s the softest whisper of a voice, the gentle slide of the door scraping over the carpet. Davey waits for the flicker of light from the hallway to fade away, then carefully cracks open his eyes.

“I brought ya some water and another dose of excedrin,” Jack murmurs, setting a glass down on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Davey says. He gingerly leverages himself up—just enough to take the pills without dumping water all down his front—then settles back down into the pillows with a sigh.

“How are ya feelin’?” Jack asks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyes are tight with worry. “Any better at all?”

“Not really,” Davey says. “I still feel like absolute garbage.”

The furrow between Jack’s brow deepens. “Anything I can do for ya? Anything else ya need?”

“No, Jackie, I’m okay,” Davey says quietly. He tries for a reassuring smile, but isn’t sure how successful he is—his entire body is aching. “Nothing to do except lay here and hope the meds kick in.”

“Have ya been able to sleep at all?” Jack asks.

“Not really,” Davey whispers. “Can’t get comfortable.”

Jack watches him for a moment, shoulders tense and mouth thin with displeasure. Then the next thing Davey knows, he’s crawling into bed beside him.

“Jack?” Davey says, bewildered. “What are you—?”

“I can’t just do nothin’,” Jack says, settling in with his back against the headboard. “Not when you’re hurtin’ like this.”

He opens his arms: a clear invitation for Davey to cuddle with him. “C’mere.”

“Jackie, you don’t have to—“ Davey says.

“I know I don’t have to,” Jack patiently interrupts. “I’m offering.”

“Charlie and Tony—“

“—Will be just fine for a little bit,” Jack says, tugging Davey over so that he’s curled into Jack’s side with his head pillowed against Jack’s chest. It’s incredibly, unfairly comfortable. “Power Rangers just came on at 7, ya know how much they love that shit. They won’t even notice I’m gone for at least an hour, but how’s this? If I hear any screaming, I promise I’ll get up right away.”

Davey lets out a small snort and immediately regrets it when it makes the space behind his eyes throb painfully.

He just wants it to _stop_.

“Come here, Dave,” Jack murmurs, soft and coaxing, and his arms wrap around him, a warm, protective cradle. Davey doesn’t have the energy to resist him, even if he wanted to. “I gotcha, _cielito_.”

Cielito? A part of Davey wants to ask but a larger part of him is too exhausted and in too much pain to bother.

One of Jack’s hands slides up Davey’s spine to cradle the back of his head, then deft fingers start lightly combing through his hair. At long last, some of the tension starts to ease. The soft motions of Jack’s fingers are almost hypnotically soothing, and Davey feels his eyes slip shut, the first tendrils of sleep pulling at him.

“Just rest for me, Dave,” Jack’s voice comes again, hazy and distant, and there’s soft, warm pressure against Davey’s forehead. A kiss, maybe? It’s a nice, if unlikely thought, and Davey holds onto it as the last bits of awareness flit away. “I gotcha. I gotcha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Inspired by an ask from @prettyinlimegreenboots on tumblr!
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! @LiveSincerely <3


	3. Domestic/Routine Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jackie, love,” Davey says, lingering in the doorway. “How’s it going?”
> 
> “Fuckin’ commissions,” Jack grumbles. There’s the nub of a red oil pastel tucked behind his ear, which shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “God, remind me why I took this job again?”

**Domestic/Routine Kiss**

Davey knocks twice, then pushes the door open. Jack is right where Davey expects him to be: sitting at his desk, hunched over his sketch pad. His hands and fingers are covered in shiny smudges of graphite and there’s a series of crumpled balls of paper scattered on the floor around him.

“Jackie, love,” Davey says, lingering in the doorway. “How’s it going?”

“Fuckin’ _commissions_ ,” Jack grumbles. There’s the nub of a red oil pastel tucked behind his ear, which shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “God, remind me why I took this job again?”

“Because you’re one of the most talented landscape artists in the city?” Davey offers, wandering closer. He moves a few spare watercolor pencils out of the way to clear a space, then sets the plate he’s holding down on Jack’s desk. “Because even though you can hardly stand him, you knew if you turned down this opportunity you’d regret it?”

“I’m regrettin’ it now,” Jack says. “Fuckin’ Anderson and his fuckin’ _bullshit color palettes._ Who in the fuck ever heard of a sunset without any yellow? It’s the _goddamn_ sun—make it make sense, Dave!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Davey says, trying for reassuring, but mostly trying not to laugh too obviously. “I don’t want to distract you, but I just wanted to remind you that I’ve got third shift at the shop tonight, so I won’t be back until morning.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack mutters absently. He makes a few sharp strokes with his pencil, then runs a hand through his hair, trailing a line of gray across his forehead. Davey feels his eyes going soft at the sight. “Tell Patricia I said hi.”

“I will,” Davey says. “Also, I brought you a plate of food—please remember to eat it this time.”

“No promises,” Jack says, a playful smile pulling at his mouth. “Have a good day at work, sweetheart.”

“You too,” Davey says. “And try not to drink any paint water while I’m gone.”

“Again, I make no promises,” Jack says, and while he still doesn’t look at Davey, he does tilt his head up and to the side, expectant. “Love you.”

Davey takes his cue and ducks down, pressing a soft kiss to Jack’s temple. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an ask from @agentsnickers on tumblr
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	4. "You're Hurt" Kiss 1 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, you shoulda seen the other guy,” Jack says.
> 
> This is the wrong thing to say. Davey marches forward, looking for all the world like he might cock his arm back and blacken Jack’s other eye. But when his hands land on either side of Jack’s face, they’re ice-cold and trembling but incredibly gentle.
> 
> “Jackie,” Davey pleads, “you can’t keep doing this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Implied anti-Semitism

“Oh my god,” Davey breathes.

Jack straightens up even as his ribs throb in protest, tossing aside the rag he’d been using to dab at a cut on his forehead.

“Dave,” he starts, trying for a lighthearted, reassuring tone. “Davey, sweetheart, it ain’t as bad as it looks—“

“Oh, isn’t it?” Davey says, and he looks pissed but there’s an unmistakable tremor in his voice. “Isn’t it, Jackie?”

“Hey, you shoulda seen the other guy,” Jack says.

This is the wrong thing to say. Davey marches forward, looking for all the world like he might cock his arm back and blacken Jack’s other eye. But when his hands land on either side of Jack’s face, they’re ice-cold and trembling but incredibly gentle.

“Jackie,” Davey pleads, “you can’t keep doing this.”

“I sure as hell can,” Jack disagrees. “I’m not gonna let anyone get away with talkin’ shit about ya—“

“I don’t give a fuck about them!” Davey bursts out. “Who fucking cares what they say? Assholes are always going to be assholes no matter how hard you soak them! What I care about is how you keep getting into fights for _no good reason_ —“

“No good reason?” Jack retorts, incredulous. “Whaddya mean no good reason? It’s a great reason, it’s the best reason, how can you not care about any of it—?”

“Because you keep getting hurt!” Davey roars, and he drags Jack forward and crushes their mouths together, hard and desperate. It’s a messy, frustrated inferno of a kiss and Jack’s hands land on Davey’s hips, tugging him even closer as they bite and plunder each other’s mouths.

Eventually, everything gentles. Jack's eyes slowly blink open, and his heart lurches in his chest. Because Davey’s eyes are still clenched tightly shut, but that’s doing nothing to stop the tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

“Davey,” Jack whispers. “Sweetheart, I—“

“You can’t keep doing this, Jackie,” Davey says. “Not for me, I can’t stand it. One wrong blow to the head, one guy who pulls a knife... that’s all it would take. Please. _Please_.”

“Davey,” Jack starts, carefully wiping the wetness from Davey’s cheeks. “ _Luz de mi vida,_ no one deserves the kind of things they say to you. I can’t just let ‘em get away with—“

“ _Yes you can_ ,” Davey says, fierce even in his quiet. “It’s just words, Jackie, don’t you see that? Who cares what they think? I’ve got you, I’ve got the others, that’s what I care about. Please, Jackie, if you really want to do something for me, then I want you to be _safe_. I want you to be here _with me._ Please don’t keep risking yourself for me, please love, _please_ —“

“Okay,” Jack interrupts, because how can he keep arguing in the face of Davey’s tears. “Okay, sweetheart, I won’t go out picking fights no more.”

“Promise me?” Davey asks.

Jack kisses him one more time, soft and chaste. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt from @prettyinlimegreenboots on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on Tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	5. "You're Hurt!" Kiss 2 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “—ave? Davey, can you hear me?”
> 
> Pain. A twisting, aching pain. Shrill cries and harsh sobs, ringing and echoing all around.
> 
> “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step back—“
> 
> “David Jacobs,” Oh, that’s Jack’s voice, Davey thinks distantly, though he’s not sure what to make of this realization. “You are not allowed to fucking die. Do you hear me? So open your eyes right this goddamn second.”

“—ave? Davey, can you hear me?”

Pain. A twisting, aching pain. Shrill cries and harsh sobs, ringing and echoing all around.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step back—“

“ _David Jacobs_ ,” Oh, that’s Jack’s voice, Davey thinks distantly, though he’s not sure what to make of this realization. “You are not allowed to fucking die. Do you hear me? So open your eyes right this _goddamn second.”_

Davey groans, low in his chest, his eyelashes fluttering but refusing to part. There’s something in and around his mouth, dry and ashen, and he feels cold all over. Jack’s voice comes again, soft and soothing, except that Davey can feel his terror bleeding through their bond. “It’s okay sweetheart, I’m right here, you’re alright.”

“Sir, I’m really going to have to insist that you—“

Jack’s emotions, already frothing and churning, surge white hot. “Like _fuck you fucking are_ —!”

A different voice. Higher, younger, but still familiar. “What’s going on here?”

“He simply refuses to leave. I’ve already informed him that he can’t stay but—“

“But, what? You thought you could argue with him about his injured soulmate?”

Trembling silence. Jack’s protective fury still threatening to crest.

“Oh, well, I couldn’t have possibly known—“

“Their fucking soul marks are _right there_ , plain as day! _Jesus Christ_ , what kinda EMT are you—“

Davey’s head feels like it’s underwater, but he forces himself to break through the haze.

“... _Jack_ ,” Davey mumbles.

Something squeezes around his fingers, and for the first time Davey realizes that someone’s been holding his hand this whole time.

“Davey?” Jack says, more of a gasp of breath than a word. Cool, clean relief floods through him from Jack, and even in Davey’s mind, the sensation is salty with tears. “Davey, holy shit, Dave, are you—?”

“...W’at.... ha’pened?” Davey croaks out. He manages to open his eyes, and the world swims hazily around him. “Wha...”

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t try to talk,” Jack murmurs. “There was a fire at the Day Care. The sprinklers didn’t go off and your coworker never clocked in, so it was just you and twenty-five kiddos and shitty-ass wallpaper that lit up in minutes. They think ya musta kept going back inside to get all the babies out, but you got hit in the head by a falling beam on the way out.”

“Did everyone,” Davey says, alarmed, but he’s coughing before he can finish the thought. He tries to sit up, but can’t get his limbs to work the way he wants them to. “Did I get...

 _“Yes, Davey_ ,” Jack says, and he pushes Davey back down with a firm hand on his chest. Davey can feel the sudden spike of concern coming through the bond. “You got all the kids out, of course you did, it’s you.”

Jack takes a breath, slow and shaky. “But you nearly fucking died, okay? You’ve been out for a while, you’ve lost a bunch of blood and you’re probably concussed, and it was the scariest fucking moment of my life, feeling your fear and your pain and then feeling _nothing, just fucking nothing all at once,_ so I need you to just—

Jack trails off, his voice wet with tears. Davey blinks and breathes and squeezes Jack’s hand as much as he can. Then Jack bends down and presses their lips together in an impossibly gentle kiss.

“Stand down for a bit, _cielito_ ,” Jack murmurs. “You did good, but let the rest of us take over now, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt from @yafancyclamwiththepurlinside on tumblr!
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! @LiveSincerely :D


	6. Desperate Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Davey insists, bafflingly. He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I just explained all of it!”
> 
> “No?” Jack says, or maybe asks. Davey’s got his head spinning round and round. “Ya just, I mean ya rambled on about being sorry an’ all, but ya keep saying ya already knew that I—“
> 
> “That you don’t like me,” Davey finishes. He’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth, eyes cast towards the ground. “Not like how...” he takes a breath, then continues, “Not like how I like you.”
> 
> Jack feels like someone’s hit him over the head, several times in quick succession.

Davey’s expression has gone a little rueful, a little sad. He says, with soft, blue eyes, “Hey, Jack, it’s okay.”

Jack feels like a pressure’s been lifted off his chest. “It is?” he asks, hope blooming.

“Of course it is,” Davey says. “God, what do you take me for? I wouldn’t hold that against you—“

Relieved that he hasn’t missed his chance, Jack says, “Oh thank god, because I know it was bad and _so fucking awkward_ and I didn’t want ya to think—“

“—I know you don’t like me like that,” Davey states, and Jack’s heart flips over in his chest and sinks down to his stomach. “I knew, I did, and I shouldn’t have let the others... but that’s not an excuse. So, I’m sorry for all this.”

“Wait, what?” Jack says.

“I’m sorry that we kissed,” Davey says, and he’s talking really fast and he won’t quite meet Jack’s eyes. “I know it’s uncomfortable when someone confesses to you when you don’t feel the same, and Race and Albert really put you on the spot—god, I could just _murder them_ —so I totally get that you just felt obligated, don’t worry, I won’t read anything into it—“

“What?” Jack repeats, desperately confused.

“—And I understand if this changes things, if you need time or space or, or _whatever_. ‘Cause it’s one thing to know and it’s a whole other thing to _know_ so I get it—“

“Davey, stop for a second, will ya?” Jack finally manages to get a word in. Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, face red. “What are ya talking about?”

“You know,” Davey insists, bafflingly. He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I just explained all of it!”

“No?” Jack says, or maybe asks. Davey’s got his head spinning round and round. “Ya just, I mean ya rambled on about being sorry an’ all, but ya keep saying ya already knew that I—“

“That you don’t like me,” Davey finishes. He’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth, eyes cast towards the ground. “Not like how...” he takes a breath, then continues, “Not like how I like you.”

Jack feels like someone’s hit him over the head, several times in quick succession.

“But that’s okay!” Davey hurriedly adds, like this makes any kind of sense. “I mean, I get it, you know? Of course you wouldn’t, of course you don’t—“

“What do you mean, of course?” Jack demands. His heart is pounding in his ears.

Davey blinks at him. He doesn’t seem to understand Jack’s question, which is somehow even more infuriating.

Finally he says, “Well, I just meant that it makes sense that you don’t feel the same way since you’re—“

Jack steps up, drags Davey forward by the front of his jacket, and leans in to take Davey’s mouth in a fierce kiss. Davey lets out a tiny gasp of surprise, his lips parting instinctively beneath Jack’s own, and Jack presses even closer, his tongue sweeping in to plunder Davey’s mouth with an almost desperate fervor—hot and heady and deep and _wanting_.

Jack pulls back the span of a breath.

“Look at me,” Jack says, and Davey’s eyes flutter and focus in on him again. His mouth hangs open in shock, his lips kiss swollen and shiny. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, right now, how sure you are that I don’t want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @wide-eyed--wonderer on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely <3


	7. Passionate Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shouldn’t we be... taking this slow?” Jack says, except he’s pressing a trail of kisses along Davey’s jaw.
> 
> “You... started it,” Davey replies, tugging at Jack’s shirt until Jack finally pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. “What exactly... were you, fuck, Jack... expecting would happen?”
> 
> “You... are such fucking smart ass,” Jack muses, his voice rough with desire. “God, I love you.”

Jack closes the space between them in two long strides, pushes Davey against the counter, and brings their lips together in a bruising kiss. There’s a hand cupped around his jaw, another curled around his waist, and Jack’s mouth is hot and eager against his own, nipping at Davey’s lower lip like he’s desperate to taste him. Davey kisses him back just as hard, tugging at Jack’s hair and grinding their hips together until he’s groaning low in his chest.

Jack steps even closer, working a thigh between Davey’s legs, his hands slipping up under Davey’s shirt, and Davey can’t help but gasp at the feeling of those rough, warm hands sliding over his skin.

“Shouldn’t we be... taking this slow?” Jack says, except he’s pressing a trail of kisses along Davey’s jaw.

“You... started it,” Davey replies, tugging at Jack’s shirt until Jack finally pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. “What exactly... were you, _fuck, Jack_... expecting would happen?”

“You... are such fucking smart ass,” Jack muses, his voice rough with desire. “God, I love you.”

Davey’s heart swoops and stutters. “I love you too,” he says. “You ridiculous asshole.”

They clash together again, biting and licking at each other’s mouths. Davey’s arms wrap around Jack’s shoulders, Jack’s hands running down over Davey’s hips, then wrapping under Davey’s thighs. He lifts Davey up and sits him on the countertop—Davey shivers, arousal thrumming through him, then wraps his legs around Jack’s waist, crossing his legs at the ankle to draw him in.

Jack ducks his head, mouthing down the line of Davey throat, sucking and nibbling as he goes.

“Fuck, Dave,” Jack groans, and Davey can feel the rumble of Jack’s voice, vibrating through where they’re plastered together, chest to chest.

His fingers go tight in Jack’s hair, tilting his head to the side to give Jack more access to his neck, mind awash with sensation.

Jack pulls away, all heaving breaths and blown out pupils. Davey makes a noise of protest, throaty and wanting.

“We’re not... doing this here,” Jack pants. “We gotta... _bedroom.”_

Davey shakes his head, hands moving down to cup around Jack’s face to pull him back in.

“No, here, here’s fine—“

Jack kisses him again, deep and domineering. Davey sighs and trembles, feeling like he might vibrate out of his skin.

“But I want to— _jesus, fuck_ , Dave—I want to—“

“Yes, Jack,” Davey moans, scrabbling at Jack's shoulders. “God, yes.”

Jack’s hands clamp down around Davey’s hips and Davey stills. His heart is hammering, desire is sparking low in his belly, but that all pales in comparison to the almost tangible energy of Jack’s gaze holding his own.

“I am not fucking you against the kitchen counter, Dave,” Jack growls, looking up at Davey with deliciously dark eyes. “Not at first, anyway—you deserve better. So get your ass to the bedroom.”

Davey swallows, electricity zinging down his spine. “...But, we will be revisiting the counters eventually, right?”

“ _Bedroom,_ David _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt by @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	8. Possessive Kiss 1 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey’s eyes find Jack’s in the shiny, mirrored elevator doors. He’s thumbing idly at the collar of his shirt, and it could be an innocent action, except that every so often the fabric parts just enough to reveal the splotch of reddish purple stamped into the skin just below the hollow of his throat.

The elevator arrives with a soft chime. They get in. Davey hits the button to their floor and the doors slide shut, the walls vibrating and creaking as the elevator climbs upward.

Jack carefully keeps his eyes forward, hands clenched into fists where they’re stuffed into his pockets, fighting against the need to touch and take.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more floors.

Davey’s eyes find Jack’s in the shiny, mirrored elevator doors. He’s thumbing idly at the collar of his shirt, and it could be an innocent action, except that every so often the fabric parts just enough to reveal the splotch of reddish purple stamped into the skin just below the hollow of his throat.

For the umpteenth time this evening, Jack feels his mouth go achingly dry, utterly transfixed by the sight, by the reminder that Davey’s all his and bears the marks to prove it. As Jack stares, Davey’s lips curl up into a wicked little smirk.

Jack is kissing him before he even realizes he’s moved, caging Davey against one of the walls with the weight of his body, with the force of the kiss. Davey moans against Jack’s mouth, his hands cupped around Jack’s face as he tries to kiss him all but senseless, and Jack’s pretty sure he succeeds: he feels nearly insane with how badly he wants him, a searing heat coursing through his veins.

“Playin’ games with me sweetheart?” Jack says, voice rough with desire.

Davey doesn’t look the least bit guilty for driving Jack absolutely crazy these last few hours. His breaths are coming out a little ragged, his lips parted oh so temptingly, but otherwise he looks like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be, the gorgeous, frustrating, irresistible smart ass that he is.

“Playing? No, of course not,” Davey says, hooking his fingers through Jack’s belt loops. “Winning? Well, that’s a definite maybe.”

There’s a dangerous moment where Jack almost kisses him again: he ducks in close, Davey’s head tilting up involuntarily and his eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. But if they get started again there’s a strong chance they won’t think to stop—Jack’s hanging on to the last threads of his control by the skin of his teeth as it is—and they really, really can’t do this here.

Though, with every second they stand there, wrapped up in each other and gazed locked, it’s getting harder and harder to remember why.

Jack manages to pull away, determinedly ignoring the noise of protest Davey lets out when he goes. He doesn’t move far: just leans over and jabs at the elevator button for their floor a few more times, willing the ancient thing to move a little bit faster.

When he turns back, Davey is _looking_ at him, and his eyes are molten beneath the tousled mess of his curls. Jack can’t resist pressing one more biting kiss to that lovely mouth.

“You are far more dangerous than you have any right to be, sweetheart,” Jack growls.

“Only to you, Jackie, love,” Davey murmurs. “Only to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @wide-eyed--wonderer on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	9. Good Morning Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jack!” Davey whines, batting ineffectively at Jack shoulders. “Get off of me!”
> 
> “What’s that?” Jack says, taking each of Davey’s hands in his own and pinning them to the roof, one on each side of his head. He rubs his face and head all along Davey’s neck and shoulders, just to be obnoxious. “I thought you didn’t want to get up—I’m just obligin’ ya.”

They’re dozing more than truly sleeping—the faint sounds of the city waking up buzzing around them. The morning breeze rustles through their blankets and Jack’s arms curl around Davey’s waist, dragging him more fully on top of him.

Davey lets Jack manhandle him without complaint, still half asleep, and he lets out a contented little sigh when Jack slides a hand up and starts gently carding his fingers through his hair. They lay there quietly for a few more minutes, savoring the last few moments of their solitude, before Jack finally says, “We gotta start makin’ moves, Sweetheart.”

Davey groans, hiding his face in Jack’s chest. “I hate mornings.”

Jack chuckles, then presses a kiss to Davey’s temple. “I know ya do, but we hafta get up.”

Davey grumbles something incoherent, his fingers going tight in the fabric of Jack’s tank, but he still makes no move to wake. Jack considers him for a moment, then in one careful move, rolls them so that Davey’s flat on his back with Jack laying on top of him.

“Jack!” Davey whines, batting ineffectively at Jack shoulders. “Get off of me!”

“What’s that?” Jack says, taking each of Davey’s hands in his own and pinning them to the roof, one on each side of his head. He rubs his face and head all along Davey’s neck and shoulders, just to be obnoxious. “I thought you didn’t want to get up—I’m just obligin’ ya.”

“You are such an asshole,” Davey says, and Jack can feel his chest shaking with laughter from where they’re pressed together. “Okay, okay, I’m up, get off of me!”

“Hey, now, is that any way to talk to the love of your life?” Jack says. Davey wiggles and squirms but Jack holds fast, pressing Davey down even more with the weight of his body.

“It is when the love of my life is being a dick,” Davey retorts, fighting to sound angry through his smile.

Jack gasps, loud and over-dramatic. “Dave, sweetheart, _cielito_ , how could ya say such a thing?”

He ducks his head and starts pressing kisses to every bit of Davey’s face he can get at—his forehead, his cheeks, his chin—punctuating each with a smacking _Mwah!_

“Oh my god, I take it back,” Davey says, laughing, two points of color blooming high on his cheeks. “Knock it off.”

“Nope, nuh uh, too late, now I gotta prove it,” Jack declares, lacing his fingers through Davey’s. “I can’t have ya doubtin’ me, oh _luz de mi vida_.”

He kisses along Davey’s brow, then plants a quick peck on the top of his nose.

“ _Hermoso, guapisimo, maravilloso_ ,” Jack says, and he’s not quite kissing Davey’s lips—instead catching his Cupid’s bow, both corners of his mouth. “Don’t ya know how much I love you?”

“Jack,” Davey says, deliciously flustered and blushing deeper with each kiss and pet name. He’s not even trying to escape any more, just staring up at Jack with big blue eyes. “Jack, oh my god, stop it—“

“ _Mi amor, mi amado, mi corazon,”_ Jack murmurs, and he lets go of Davey hands so he can lower himself down on his elbows. The space between them has shifted from playful to tender, and though it started as a joke, he can’t pretend that he doesn’t mean each word that falls from his lips with every piece of his heart. “ _Mi alma_.”

“ _Jackie_ ,” Davey says, ever so softly.

Jack kisses him fully this time, slow and sweet. Birds are singing somewhere in the distance. “Mornin’ Davey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @wide-eyed--wonderer on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	10. Desperate Kiss 2 - Sprace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Spot watches Racetrack walk away from him now, as he watches that curly blonde head disappear into the evening fog, he’s suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that if he lets Race leave this time without saying something, he’ll never see him again. That if he lets Race walk away, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

It’s not like Spot ever _enjoys_ watching Racetrack walk away from him, but it’s ain’t exactly unfamiliar territory. There’s always the looming pressure of the coming day—papes to sell, newsies to rally, responsibilities to carry out—all to be done apart, in separate boroughs, on separate turfs.

But as Spot watches Racetrack walk away from him now, as he watches that curly blonde head disappear into the evening fog, he’s suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that if he lets Race leave this time without saying something, he’ll never see him again. That if he lets Race walk away, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

Fear jolts through Spot like a live wire.

“Race!” Spot calls out before he can lose his nerve. “Hey, Racer, hold on for a second!”

Racetrack’s steps slow to a reluctant halt, but he doesn’t turn around right away. Spot jogs up to him, heart pounding in his chest, and it’s only when Race looks over at him that Spot realizes he has no idea what he wants to say.

“What do you want, Spot?” Race asks. He looks sad and tired—the kind of tired that creeps right down into your bones and festers there. Spot wonders how long Race has looked like this without him noticing, then wonders how often he’s been the reason for it. If his hunch is anywhere close to accurate, it’s a pretty big number. “It’s gettin’ late.”

“Yeah, I know, but...” Spot flounders. He’s been hurting Race for so long without ever realizing how bad it’s been—how can he ever make up for it all?

Race just looks at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. After a moment, he sighs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Race—“

“Just stop, Spottie,” Race says, and Spot falls silent. “I can’t keep goin’ back an’ forth like this with you, hopin’ and wonderin’ and thinkin’ _maybe, just maybe_ , but never knowin’. I just can’t, okay? And since you ain’t never gonna make up your mind, it’s up ta me to make it up for the both of us. And I’m finally ready to tap out.”

“Racer—“

Racetrack shakes his head. His eyes are distant, his expression closed off. “I can’t keep sittin’ around waiting for you to give me the time of day. It ain’t fair.”

He takes a step back, and then another. He’s slipping through Spot’s grasp like smoke on the wind. “I’ll see you around, Spot,” he mutters, a final farewell. It’s the most unconvincing lie Spot’s ever heard him tell.

Race gets all of a half foot away before Spot takes him by the wrist and spins him back around.

There’s the briefest flicker of surprise and indignation. Then Spot’s tugging him down into a desperate kiss.

Spot pours everything he has into that kiss, swallowing Race’s gasp and pressing up into him as much as he can, trying to convey all that he doesn’t know how to put into words in each press of the lips, into every brush of skin and flick of the tongue.

“I’m ain’t good with words, Tony,” Spot rasps out, when they finally part. Race’s eyes blink open slowly, soft and glassy, and his hands have come up to settle lightly on Spot’s waist—like he isn’t sure what else to do with ‘em. His expression is utterly blank. “Not like you are. But Tony, you gotta know— I need you to know how much I, how much you—“

Race leans forward, and the gentle press of his forehead against Spot’s feels like fresh hope. “Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @bannersthatspellfreedom on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	11. Reunion Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey doesn’t even get a chance to look for Jack in the crowd because Jack finds him first.
> 
> “Dave!” a voice calls from behind him, loud and joyful.
> 
> Davey starts to turn, his carry-on bag falling to the tiles at his feet. He catches the flash of a grin and those lovely brown eyes, and then Jack’s arms close around Davey’s waist and lift him right off his feet, spinning him around in circles.

Davey doesn’t even get a chance to look for Jack in the crowd because Jack finds him first.

“Dave!” a voice calls from behind him, loud and joyful.

Davey starts to turn, his carry-on bag falling to the tiles at his feet. He catches the flash of a grin and those lovely brown eyes, and then Jack’s arms close around Davey’s waist and lift him right off his feet, spinning him around in circles.

“Jack!” Davey says, a startled laugh bubbling out of him. “Put me down!”

“Nope, sorry, no can do,” Jack replies with a blinding grin. He holds Davey aloft for a while longer, seemingly just because he can, and it feels so perfectly right to be in his arms again that Davey can’t hardly stand it. “You’ll be lucky if I let you go anytime in the next _week_ , sweetheart, because _Jesus Christ_ I missed you—“

Davey doesn’t even wait to get his feet back under him before he’s leaning in for a kiss. Jack’s hands shift from lifting him up to bringing him in and his mouth moves tenderly against Davey’s own—like he’s savoring each and every press of the lips and flick of the tongue—and Davey feels something finally begin to settle in his chest. He’s home.

Davey lifts a hand to brush Jack’s hair away from his forehead, eyes darting frantically across every inch of his face. He’s a little taller, a little tanner, but Jack is _Jack_ and Davey’s heart swells that much more.

“I missed you so much,” Davey says, fingers trailing delicately along the planes of Jack’s face. “Jackie, love, I missed you like you wouldn’t even believe—“

“Three months, Davey,” Jack says, catching one of Davey’s hands in his own. He tangles their fingers together, squeezing gently, then lifts it to his mouth and plants a soft kiss to Davey’s knuckles. “Three months you’ve been in Bumblefuck-Nowheresville, Colorado with the world’s shittiest cell service and God, it felt like _three fucking years._ ”

“No more long-term projects,” Davey agrees, pressing another quick kiss to Jack’s mouth. “Not if you can’t come with me. If the company wants me to travel so badly they can _damn well_ front up the cash for two, it’s not like they can’t afford it—“

Jack’s hand curls under his chin and tips his head up for one more kiss. Davey sighs and melts, arms moving up to loop around Jack’s shoulders, something light and loving spreading through his veins like liquid gold.

Davey can feel the weight of Jack’s gaze on him when they part again: his eyes have gone incredibly warm, his expression open and tender and affectionate. He murmurs into the scant space between them, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an ask from @kings-of-newyork on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	12. Kiss on the Cheek - Jack & Crutchie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, hey, hey,” Jack says, hurrying over. “Charlie, baby, what’s wrong.”
> 
> Charlie’s lower lip wobbles. In the quietest, most heartbreaking little voice Jack’s ever heard he asks, “Jack, ‘m I stupid?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack says, hurrying over. “Charlie, baby, what’s wrong.”

Charlie’s lower lip wobbles. In the quietest, most heartbreaking little voice Jack’s ever heard he asks, “Jack, ‘m I stupid?”

The question hits Jack like a slap to the face. “...Why would you think that?” he asks, startled.

“I dunno,” Charlie whispers, shuffling his feet. “I was jus’ wonderin’,”

“No, you wasn’t just wonderin’,” Jack says gently, kneeling down to Charlie’s level. “Why do you think you’re stupid, baby? I know you didn’t just come up with that by yourself.”

Charlie sniffles, his eyes filling up with tears. “I— it’s jus’ that Ricky Jones said that only stupidheads have trouble with letters, and, and Ms. Rose says I’m gettin’ better but I still don’t, I still can’t— and, and _I’m tryin’,_ I promise, I don’t mean to be stupid, _I don’t, butitsjussohardand_ —” The rest of the explanation trails off into incoherence.

“Oh, Charlie,” Jack says softly, gathering him up in his arms. Charlie presses his face against Jack’s chest, his tiny shoulders shaking with hiccupping sobs. “Baby, you ain’t stupid. Of course you ain’t stupid.”

“But Ricky Jones said—”

“Hey now, do you believe Ricky Jones more than you believe me?” Jack asks, keeping his voice low and soothing. He shifts so that he’s sitting on the floor, then pulls Charlie into his lap, rocking him slowly back and forth. “Baby, just because you ain’t as good at your letters as other kids yet don’t mean you’re stupid. Everyone learns different, yeah? Just like how you might be taller than some kids and you might be shorter than others—nobody’s any better than anyone else, you’re all just different.”

“...You promise?” Charlie asks, voice wavering.

“Charlie, look at me,” Jack says, soft but firm. Charlie pokes his head up, eyes shiny and bloodshot. Jack’s heart breaks all over again. “You aren’t stupid,” he states, carefully wiping Charlie’s face with the bottom of his sleeve. “You help me count the change for the subway and you tell me all those good dinosaur facts and you always remember to hold hands when we cross the street. Even Tony forgets sometimes and he’s six!”

This earns Jack a wet little giggle, and Charlie’s death grip on Jack’s shirt eases up a bit. “You’re learning, baby, that’s what school’s for. Otherwise, why would anyone go, huh?” Jack wipes the last of Charlie’s tears away, then plants a kiss to each of his cheeks. “You’ll get your letters figured out, I promise. And you know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But letters are _really hard_ _,”_ Charlie says, very seriously. “What if I never get ‘em? I don’t wanna be a stupidhead.”

“You ain’t a stupidhead, and I don’t wanna hear you call yourself that no more, okay?” Jack says, tone a little sharp. He waits for Charlie to nod, then continues, “I’ll help you with ‘em, yeah? We’ll practice on it real hard, and then you can show Ms. Rose how good you are at ‘em.”

Charlie considers this idea. “And Tony too?”

“Sure, Tony will help too,” Jack says with a chuckle, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “We’ll all work on it together.”

And finally, Charlie smiles. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt by @deliciouspeachpirate on tumblr
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely :D


	13. Kiss in the Rain - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack’s footsteps slap against the pavement in counterpoint to the pounding rain, chest heaving as he runs. Davey’s only got a bit of a head start on him but he’s taken every advantage of it, sprinting through the streets like his very life depends on it. Jack’s legs pump even harder, and he steadily starts closing the gap.
> 
> “Dave!” Jack says, shouting to be heard over the downpour, snagging the back of Davey’s vest. “Davey, wait!”
> 
> “Let go of me!” Davey yells back, twisting and jerking away. “Leave me alone!”

“....What?” Jack croaks.

Every last bit of color drains out of Davey’s face. The space around them seems to go deafeningly silent, like all the air’s been sucked from the room.

It’s impossible to tell which of them is more stunned. For a moment they just stare at each other. Then several things happen all at once: Jack shifts on his feet, swaying ever so slightly closer, and Davey flinches back with a sharp inhale, his eyes going wide and wild, then bolts out the front door.

It takes Jack a couple of seconds to process what’s happened, still just trying to breathe and blink through the swooping feeling in his stomach. Then he’s darting into the night to chase after him.

Jack’s footsteps slap against the pavement in counterpoint to the pounding rain, chest heaving as he runs. Davey’s only got a bit of a head start on him but he’s taken every advantage of it, sprinting through the streets like his very life depends on it. Jack’s legs pump even harder, and he steadily starts closing the gap.

“Dave!” Jack says, shouting to be heard over the downpour, snagging the back of Davey’s vest. “Davey, wait!”

“Let go of me!” Davey yells back, twisting and jerking away. “Leave me alone!”

“Just— just hold on a second!” Jack says, “I just wanna talk to you!”

“Jack, let go!” Davey cries, but Jack’s all but on top of him at this point, too determined to back down. “I don’t— I can’t—!”

Jack gets his hands around Davey’s upper arms and digs in his heels, finally bringing the chase to a halt.

“Dave—“

 _“I'm sorry,”_ Davey says, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a choked back sob in his voice. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to find out, I swear, I wasn’t ever gonna say anything about it, I promise, please, please, please don’t be mad, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Davey, _stop,”_ Jack orders, and Davey’s panicked babbling finally peters out. His head bows, shoulders hunching as he caves in on himself, and Jack’s entire body aches at the sight.

Jack moves closer. Davey tenses.

“Davey...” Jack starts, then trails off again, hopelessly lost but trying desperately to understand. “Davey, what are you so afraid is gonna happen?”

Davey sniffs, then whispers so quietly that Jack almost can’t hear him over the storm. “...I’m sorry.”

Jack swallows. Moving slowly so that he doesn’t startle him, Jack brings his hands up to cup around Davey’s jaw, then gently tilts his head back to look at him.

Davey’s face is streaked with tracks of wet, rain mixing with tears as they stream down his cheeks. He resists for a second longer, sucking in a trembling gasp of air, and when his gaze finally finds Jack’s own, his eyes are even bluer than usual. He seems impossibly fragile in Jack’s hands.

“You love me?” Jack carefully asks. He feels more than hears Davey’s breath hitch in his throat, his mouth working silently as he searches for a response.

“You heard me the first time,” Davey says instead of answering, one last plea for Jack to drop it.

“But you mean it?” Jack presses. He has to. “You really mean it?”

“Jack—“

 _“Did you mean it?_ ”

 _“Yes,”_ Davey says, and it’s like the word is torn out of him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, clothes entirely soaked through, pale as bone from the cold with a constellation of tears shattered across his eyelashes. He’s the most beautiful thing on the face of this Earth. “Yes, I... yes.”

There’s rain and wind and Jack’s pulse throbbing in his ears. He leans in ever so closer—until their mouths are only inches apart—and Davey blinks up at him, his hands settling almost accidentally against Jack’s chest.

“Jack?” Davey asks, confusion and hope and disbelief waging a three-way war behind his eyes. “Jack, what—“

Jack kisses him. It’s soft and chaste and achingly sweet—just the barest press of Jack’s lips to Davey’s—but it sends his heart soaring.

“Oh,” Davey gasps delicately against Jack’s mouth, and the sound of it is like a song. _"Oh._ ”

“Yeah,” Jack murmurs, letting his head fall so that their foreheads are tilted together, just holding each other and breathing as the rain continues to fall. _“Oh.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @livininmyhead on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely :D


	14. Possessive Kiss 2 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Huh?” Jack says, letting Davey twirl him under his arm. “What are ya talkin’ about?”
> 
> “You didn’t notice?” Davey asks. He inclines his head back towards Alex Callahan, who’s still watching them intently from the sidelines.
> 
> “Who, Callahan? Naw,” Jack says, spinning Davey out then reeling him back in, and one of his hands lands on the small of Davey’s back, pulling him in flush. “He’s jus’ workin’ his story, wanted a quote from me about the art or whatever.”
> 
> “As far as he’s concerned, you are the art,” Davey says, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose it’s understandable—you clean up real sharp Jackie, love.”

“Dave!” Jack says, lighting up as Davey approaches. He lifts his arm—automatically, unthinkingly—and Davey settles comfortably into the space Jack’s made for him, tucked into his side. “This is Alex Callahan, he’s the new reviews and features writer for The Sun, he’s here covering the opening.”

“Nice to meet you,” Davey says politely, pretending not to notice the way the other man’s expression has soured.

“Likewise,” Alex answers. He doesn’t hold out a hand to shake, and Davey doesn’t offer.

“Pardon the interruption,” Davey continues, glancing back to Jack. “But a certain someone promised me a dance.”

“Promised is a bit strong, don’tcha think?” Jack grumbles lightly, even as his fingers snake down to curl at Davey’s hip.

“Promised, lost a bet,” Davey hums teasingly. “What’s the difference, really?”

“Well, actually, Jack and I were in the middle of a discussion—“

“We’ll be back in a while,” Davey interrupts, and he tugs a smiling Jack into the make-shift dance floor.

The music playing is a mid-tempo piece with lots of brass. One of Jack’s hands closes on his own, the other lands high on Davey’s back between his shoulder blades, and then they’re swaying and spinning around the room.

“I know I’ve already said it, but great work Jackie,” Davey says warmly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Aw stop it,” Jack says, ducking his head. “I told ya, it’s just a bunch’s trees.”

“That’s not what Ms. Medda says,” Davey says, and the hand that’s sitting against Jack’s shoulder slides up to loop around his neck. “She’s telling anyone that will listen about how pivotal your designs were to creating the overall feel of the show.”

“Oh Jesus,” Jack mutters, his ears turning pink. “Is she really?”

“Mhmm hmm,” Davey confirms. “You’re once again the talk of the town, Mr. Kelly, and you’ve got the admirers to prove it.”

“Huh?” Jack says, letting Davey twirl him under his arm. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

“You didn’t notice?” Davey asks. He inclines his head back towards Alex Callahan, who’s still watching them intently from the sidelines.

“Who, Callahan? Naw,” Jack says, spinning Davey out then reeling him back in, and one of his hands splays wide across the small of Davey’s back, pulling him in flush. “He’s jus’ workin’ his story, wanted a quote from me about the art or whatever.”

“As far as he’s concerned, you _are_ the art,” Davey says, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose it’s understandable—you clean up real sharp Jackie, love.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Jack says, looking a little bewildered. “I thought he was just tryin’ for a good story.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s hoping for that too,” Davey agrees. “But I doubt it’s a hardship, getting to chat up the handsomest guy in the room and call it work.”

The song comes to a finish, then transitions into something light, quick, and elaborate. They start to migrate off the dance floor, making room for the more experienced dancers taking the stage, and the moment they do, Alex Callahan start working his way through the crowd towards them, his expression set with determination.

Davey turns to Jack and slants their mouths together, hot and deep and more than a little demanding. He nips delicately at Jack’s lower lip, then follows up with a flick of his tongue to sooth away the sting, and he can feel Jack’s hands pressing into the divots of his hips, the beginnings of a groan building somewhere in his chest.

It’s nowhere close to being appropriate for a public setting. Davey could not care less.

Davey kisses him for one more second, then another, and when he finally pulls away Jack sways closer, mouth instinctively chasing his own. His eyes have gone delightfully dark.

“Finish up your interview,” Davey murmurs, leaning in for one last kiss. He adjusts Jack’s tie and straightens his collar, letting his fingers linger against the curve of Jack’s neck, then trail gently down the planes of Jack’s chest. “Come find me when you’re done.”

He saunters back across the room, happy to leave it at that now that he’s confident his point has been made, but he can’t resist throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he goes.

Jack is staring after him, expression shadowed with desire, and his gaze is like a delicious, searing heat raking over Davey’s body. Callahan is at his elbow talking to him, trying to reclaim his attention, but it’s a futile effort—Jack only has eyes for Davey.

Davey continues on, satisfaction curling smugly in his chest. _Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an ask from @61-flaming-sour-cherry-scones on tumblr! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	15. Domestic/Routine Kiss 2 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you gonna let go of me so I can flip this?” Davey asks, and Jack can practically hear him arching an eyebrow.
> 
> “Nah,” Jack says, curling around him even more deliberately, hiding his grin against the nape of Davey’s neck.“‘S good practice—ya gotta be able to cook under pressure, see?”
> 
> “Oh, is that what this is?” Davey asks with a snort.
> 
> “Mmm hmn,” Jack hums, pressing a kiss to the high point of Davey’s cheek, just because. “Like on that cooking show—what’s it called? Imma _distraction.”_
> 
> “You are very distracting,” Davey agrees.

Jack lingers in the doorway for a moment, just admiring the view, then pads his way over to where Davey’s standing in front of the stove. He steps forward, slotting himself along Davey’s back and hooking his chin over Davey’s shoulder, reaching up to tug at the bottom of the shirt Davey’s wearing.

“Stealin’ my shirts again, sweetheart?” Jack murmurs, working the hem between his fingers. “‘Cause I’m almost positive this is mine.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Davey says mildly, not even looking up from the pancakes he’s got cooking away on one of the burners. There’s already a short stack of them piled on a plate nearby. “Why, you want it back?”

“Careful,” Jack playfully warns, nuzzling at the curve of Davey’s neck. “I might take that as an invitation, ‘cause it’s a damn better sight on you than it is on me.” He tucks his nose into the space behind Davey’s ear and smiles when Davey sighs and relaxes even further into his arms. “What are ya doin’ up so early, anyway?”

“I woke up starving, figured I could use up the last of the milk before it goes bad,” Davey says, gesturing idly with the spatula he’s holding. “What do you want on yours: blueberries or chocolate chips?”

“You got up at 7am on our day off because you wanted pancakes?” Jack clarifies, sneaking his hands up under Davey’s— _his_ —shirt, palms splayed over the soft curve of Davey’s stomach. Davey shivers at the contact. “You really need to stop working through dinner, _cielito_.”

“You’re one to talk, Jackie, love,” Davey replies. “I still remember last month’s landscape commission. Blueberries or chocolate chips?”

“Is that even a question?”

Davey huffs out a laugh, then reaches for the chocolate chips and sprinkles them over top of the partially cooked batter.

“Are you gonna let go of me so I can flip this?” Davey asks, and Jack can practically hear him arching an eyebrow.

“Nah,” Jack says, curling around him even more deliberately, hiding his grin against the nape of Davey’s neck.“‘S good practice—ya gotta be able to cook under pressure, see?”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Davey asks with a snort.

“Mmm hmn,” Jack hums, pressing a kiss to the high point of Davey’s cheek, just because. “Like on that cooking show—what’s it called? Imma _distraction_.”

“You are very distracting,” Davey agrees.

The pancake sizzles and hisses when Davey flips it, perfectly golden brown on the underside, and there’s the smell of chocolate and sugar and butter, the soft warmth and gentle quiet of the morning.

“How many more were you plannin’ on making?” Jack asks, thumbing small circles into Davey’s sides.

“May as well use up all the batter,” Davey says, carefully sliding the finished pancake out of the pan and onto the stack with the others. “Tony and Charlie will finish whatever we don’t.”

A spritz of cooking spray.

“Or...” Jack offers.

 _“Jack,”_ Davey warns, pouring another serving of pancake batter into the skillet.

 _“Davey,”_ Jack cajoles, dragging his lips across the curve of Davey’s jaw. He trails his fingertips delicately over the curve of Davey’s waist, down the sharp line of hip bones, along the edge of his sweatpants.

When Davey speaks again, his voice has taken on a decidedly breathless note. “Jack Francis Kelly if you make me ruin these pancakes _I swear to god...”_

“How’s this?” Jack says lowly. “You finish up this last one, we have a quick breakfast, stick the leftovers in the microwave for the boys, then head back to bed?”

_“Deal.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt from @umbre-honest on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	16. Accidental Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll see you in an hour,” Davey repeats, fondly exasperated, and he leans in to kiss him: a sweet little press of the lips. “I’ll even bring food for lunch, yeah? Unless you wanted to get hot dogs by the park?”
> 
> Jack blinks at him, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. He looks utterly dumbfounded. Davey looks back at him, puzzled by his reaction. Then realization strikes.
> 
>  _“Oh my god,”_ Davey squeaks, mortified. “Oh my god, I just— I didn’t— _oh my god.”_

Jack pushes the window open, then swings a leg through.

“Careful, it’s probably still wet from the rain,” Davey calls after him.

“I got it, Dave, don’t worry,” Jack says with an easy smile, climbing through the window and onto the fire escape. “Hey, tell your folks I said thanks again for dinner.”

“You mean on top of the twenty times you said it last night?” Davey says, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, okay.”

“And thanks for washing my clothes and mending the hole in my hat,” Jack continues. “I mean, I’d tell ‘em myself but with Race in Brooklyn and me here, Albert and Crutchie are holdin’ down the fort all alone; I need to get back quick like, ya know?”

“I’ll pass the message along,” Davey confirms.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna be rude but I don’ wanna wake ‘em up for somethin’ small—“

“Jack, it’s fine,” Davey cuts in, leaning his head out the window to better look Jack in the eyes, hands braced against the sill. “They’ll understand why you had to duck out early.”

Jack rakes a hand through his hair. “You sure? ‘Cause they been real good to me and I don’t wan’ ‘em ta think I don’ appreciate it.“

“Jackie, they adore you,” Davey assures him. “Of course they’ll understand. It’s not a bad thing, having responsibilities. Some would even say it’s a point in your favor.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jack says, looking sheepish.

“I try,” Davey agrees. “Someone’s got to be the voice of reason around here and clearly it isn’t gonna be you. Now go on and rally the troops, O’ Fearless Leader,” Davey continues teasingly. “I’ll meet you at the square in an hour.”

“You better,” Jack says. “I ain’t buyin’ your papes if ya don’t get to distribution on time.”

“Hey, which one of us is loitering on the fire escape instead of shaking a leg?” Davey counters, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just sayin’, don’t keep me waitin’,” Jack says, grinning up at him. “You know I get impatient—who knows what kinda trouble I could get up to without’cha?”

“I’ll see you in an hour,” Davey repeats, fondly exasperated, and he leans in to kiss him: a sweet little press of the lips. “I’ll even bring food for lunch, yeah? Unless you wanted to get hot dogs by the park?”

Jack blinks at him, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. He looks utterly dumbfounded. Davey stares back at him, puzzled by his reaction. Then realization strikes.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Davey squeaks, mortified. “Oh my god, I just— I didn’t— _oh my god.”_

Davey scrambles backwards so fast he almost bashes his head against the window pane, slams the window shut right in Jack’s gorgeous, gaping face, then quickly draws the curtains closed for good measure. He sinks to the floor, back to the wall and head in his hands.

“Oh no,” Davey whispers.

There’s a sharp _tap! tap! tap!_ —Jack’s knuckles rapping insistently against the glass. Davey curls up even further.

_“Oh no.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an ask from @agentsnickers on tumblr!
> 
> Come hang out with me! @LiveSincerely on tumblr! <3


	17. Romantic Kiss - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack thinks of Davey kissing him, how it had been too short and too surprising for Jack to respond in any real way, but how he wishes he’d had a chance to. He thinks of the look on Davey’s face, of the tone of Davey’s voice when he said that they could stay friends and just pretend it never happened.
> 
> But he doesn’t want to pretend, Jack realizes. What he wants is to know what Davey’s smile tastes like, how Davey’s fingers feel laced between his own, if he can see the love in Davey’s eyes, now that he knows to look for it.
> 
> He wants it like a fire in his soul. He can't even imagine trying to pretend otherwise.

“Dave!” Jack calls, when he’s able to put the words together. “Davey, I know you can hear me!” He knocks a few more times, then switches to banging on the glass with the heel of his hand. “I will stand out here all damn day, don’ think that I won’t!”

Finally, the curtains part and Davey appears. His whole face is red—his flush creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt—but his mouth is set with a grim sort of determination. Jack sees him take a breath, then the window slowly slides open.

He starts, “Davey, wha—“

“So, I’m a little bit in love with you,” Davey says, and Jack’s whole world tilts. “Or, more than a little bit, if I’m being honest.”

Jack stares. “You’re—“

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Davey quickly interrupts, and his knuckles are white where they’re curled around the window sill, his eyes focused somewhere near Jack’s left elbow. “Really, we don’t. Actually, let’s agree to just _never_ talk about it because I already know that you... I mean, of course you aren’t...”

Davey’s voice wobbles, and he cuts himself off. His eyes dart up to meet Jack’s own, then cut away just as quickly, too fast for Jack to read any of the emotions swirling in them.

“Yeah,” Davey continues, his shoulders sagging with resignation. “Exactly. So I don’t need you say it. And it’d be real kind of you to not make me have to hear it Jackie.”

Jack’s throat works but no sound comes out. His brain feels like it’s been rung out and hung up to dry, just whipping uselessly in the breeze. He opens his mouth and out falls, “...You’re really in love with me?”

“Of course I am,” Davey answers, and he says it so simple and plain—like he isn’t upending Jack’s entire life with each and every syllable. “How could I not be?”

Davey chews at his bottom lip, then says, earnest and apologetic, “I wasn’t going to tell you, I swear I wasn’t, I’m honestly happy just being your friend. And I didn’t mean to, um, kiss you.” Davey scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, glancing up at Jack with nervous, worried eyes. “Sorry about that. I guess I just thought.... well, I don’t know what I thought. I wasn’t thinking, really.”

“But we don’t need to talk about it,” Davey says again, hurriedly—like he doesn’t want to give Jack a chance to respond to him, like he’s afraid of what Jack might say. “Really, we don’t. We’ll just pretend like this never happened and nothing like this will ever— Because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. And, well, it will really put a damper on our friendship if you break my heart.”

That last part is phrased like a joke, but Davey doesn’t sound like he’s joking. Jack knows he needs to say something, but he doesn’t have a clue where to start—there’s just too much to be said.

“You should probably get going,” Davey murmurs before Jack can figure it out, ducking his head. “I’m sure Crutchie and Albert are missing you.” And for the second time that morning, he closes the window in Jack’s face, the lock snapping shut with a soft _click_.

Jack stands there for god knows how long, still trying to process whatever the hell just happened. He eventually clambers down to street level, almost careening into a trash can as he jumps off the fire escape because his knees are too wobbly to hold him up, his mind whirring with a hundred different thoughts.

The next hour passes in a blur. He’s distantly aware of making his way back to the Lodging House, of Crutchie and Albert and Romeo and the rest of the Newsies moving around him as they all get ready for work, but they’re misty shadows in his mind.

All he can think about is Davey. The way Davey’s arm feels thrown casually across Jack’s shoulders as they walk down the street, thighs brushing which each step. How Davey can roll his eyes with his whole body but can’t ever quite hide how the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, even when he’s absolutely fed up with Jack’s shit.

He thinks of Davey kissing him, how it had been too short and too surprising for Jack to respond in any real way, but how he wishes he’d had a chance to. He thinks of the look on Davey’s face, of the tone of Davey’s voice when he said that they could stay friends and just pretend it never happened.

But he doesn’t want to pretend, Jack realizes as he walks towards the Distribution Center. What he wants is to know what Davey’s smile tastes like, how Davey’s fingers feel laced between his own, if he can see the love in Davey’s eyes, now that he knows to look for it.

He wants it like a fire in his soul. He can’t even imagine trying to pretend otherwise.

Davey’s waiting for him in the square, standing off to the side and fiddling anxiously with one of the buttons on his vest, carrying a paper bag in his other hand. When he notices Jack’s arrival, he takes a cautious step forward to meet him.

Tentatively, Davey says, “We didn’t decide on lunch plans earlier, so I just went ahead and brought sandwiches.”

Jack kisses him.

Davey freezes, lips parting around a startled gasp, and there’s a soft _thunk_ as the sack lunches fall to the ground. Jack pays it no mind, too intent on his task to be bothered, and he cradles Davey’s face gently between his palms, pressing closer and kissing deeper. There’s another moment of stillness, then Davey’s relaxing into the embrace, his hands coming up to rest against Jack’s waist, his mouth moving slowly, tenderly against Jack’s as they kiss and kiss.

“What was that?” Davey says, shocked and breathless when they finally part.

“You said ya didn’t want to talk about it,” Jack reminds him. His heart’s floating and soaring all around his chest. “That was us not talking about it.”

Davey licks his lips, lashes fluttering as he blinks. “That’s really not what I meant.”

“Are ya complaining about it?” Jack asks.

Davey squints at him, his expression torn between joy and exasperation and disbelief. “...No.”

“Alrighty then,” Jack says, grinning. “Now hurry up an’ getcha papes, we’s wastin’ daylight.” He kisses him once more, just because he wants to, just because he can, then reaches up and fixes Davey’s cap so it sits right on his head. “Oh, and Dave?”

“Yeah, Jackie?”

“I’m a little bit in love with you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think many of you wanted a follow up to the accidental kiss in the last chapter, but special thanks to @johnnyboy879 for sending in the ask ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	18. "You're Hurt!" Kiss 3 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s throbbing, aching, agony, then a spike of terror surges through his soulbond so sudden and so sharp that it forces all the air out of his lungs. His glass slips from his hand—it hits the ground and shatters, sending shards of glass and pieces of ice flying in every direction.
> 
> “Jack? Jack!”
> 
> Jack hunches over, clutching desperately at his heart, barely able to breathe through the pain because it feels like someone’s picking their way into his chest cavity with a rusty axe, bluntly chipping at every last piece of him.
> 
> “Davey,” Jack says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. _“Davey.”_

Later, Jack won’t have the words to describe the enormity of the moment, the vastness of the feeling.

It starts like this: it’s a normal afternoon, all bright skies and crisp wind. Jack is catching a bite of lunch with Racer, an arm thrown comfortably across the back of the booth, sipping idly at his water and trying to follow the hopscotching details of Race’s latest work story, when all of the sudden something in his chest goes horribly, painfully tight.

It’s throbbing, aching, agony, then a spike of terror surges through his soulbond so sudden and so sharp that it forces all the air out of his lungs. His glass slips from his hand—it hits the ground and shatters, sending shards of glass and pieces of ice flying in every direction.

“Jack? Jack!”

Jack hunches over, clutching desperately at his heart, barely able to breathe through the pain because it feels like someone’s picking their way into his chest cavity with a rusty axe, bluntly chipping at every last piece of him.

“Davey,” Jack says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. _“Davey.”_

“Jack, what’s goin’—?”

Jack staggers to unsteady feet. The feeling is burning, crystallizing, as more sensation comes through from Davey’s side; there’s jolting panic and frenzied fear, all smothered with something musty and desolate. _Danger_ , Jack’s heart screams at him, _dangerdanger_ _Daveydangerdosomething._

Then Jack’s running, sprinting through the streets, barreling past the throngs of pedestrians, business men, and tourists crowding the sidewalks. He’s moving on instinct: the space inside him that’s Davey’s has gone rigid and strained, like a rope that’s been drawn taut, and all Jack has to do is follow the pull. Just follow the pull and pray that he’s not too late.

With every passing second the fear grows, rising in Jack’s throat like bile, to the point where he can’t tell what part of the feeling is his and what’s Davey’s. Jack skids around a corner and tears right through an intersection without faltering, heedless of the screeching tires and honking horns he leaves in his wake, legs pumping furiously as he closes the distance between himself and the other half of his soul—

Numb. A hush of nothingness.

It hits so abruptly that Jack stumbles, just barely able to keep his feet under him, then takes off again, the liquid dread coursing through his veins urging him to move that much faster.

 _No_ , Jack’s mind shrieks, his footsteps pounding against the pavement in time with his thundering heartbeat. _No, no, please god, no._

Finally, he sees it. The daycare Davey works at lit up in flames, smoke billowing out the windows and embers sparking along the roof. The fire department and paramedics are already on site battling the chaos, there’s a group of terrified children huddled together on the grass with a a pair of EMTs, crying and whimpering and asking for their parents, with neighbors and passerby littered all around, gawking at the scene.

Jack shoulders his way through the crowd, frantically searching for any sign of Davey.

“Sir, you need to stay back—“

Jack doesn’t even slow, pushing past the officials and first responders.

“Sir! Sir, you can’t—“

“My soulmate works here!” Jack barks out, forcefully shrugging off the hand that threatens to hold him back, bitter panic welling up and threatening to drown him. “My soulmate, he’s here, he’s hurt—“

He catches snippets of information from the gossiping crowd and swathes of workers as he searches: faulty wiring in the sprinkler systems, out of date building materials that aren’t as flame resistant as the new stuff, plaster and beams that started coming down at the first hint of stress, too many kids to evacuate and not enough workers. A voice soars over the rumbling frenzy of the scene—a little girl screaming for, “Mr. David?! Where’s Mr. David, he said he’d be right back, _he promised!”_

The story unfolding in Jack’s mind is something straight out of a goddamn nightmare. He wants to scream, wants to grab the nearest person and shake them until he gets some answers, wants to tear through every scrap of rubble and debris until he _finds Davey._

Jack makes himself keep moving. He has to, or else the hollow numbness of where Davey should be, but isn’t, might bring him to his knees.

“Sir, where are you—?”

Jack dodges around another body with something approaching a snarl, his heart a deafening beat in his ears. The next person that tries to stop him is _going into the fucking concrete._

Then, finally, Jack spots him. Davey’s splayed out in an untouched section of grass, his shoulders and torso covered in a bright orange shock blanket, a thick bandage wrapped around his thigh. An EMT is kneeling over him and as Jack watches, she presses two fingers to the side of Davey’s neck, her expression grim.

“Davey?” Jack croaks. “Dave— _Davey?_ ”

He stumbles forward, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. Davey’s face is covered in soot, blood dripping sluggishly from a gash across his forehead.

He’s too pale. He’s too still.

“Davey?” Jack reaches out with shaking fingers, brushing Davey’s ash-dusted hair to the side, hands coming up to gently cradle his face. The moment they touch something rings through their bond, weak and fluttering, but unmistakably _Davey_ , and the jagged edges cutting through Jack’s chest finally begin to soften and smooth over.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t be here—“

Jack doesn’t even acknowledge her. There’s nothing more important than the delicate thrum of _DaveyDaveyDavey_ settling in the back of his mind, right where it belongs. Jack leans down and brushes his mouth against Davey’s, careful and tender, and maybe Jack’s imagining it but he thinks he feels the bond steady and strengthen the tiniest bit more.

“Dave?” Jack asks. “Davey, can you hear me?”

Something in the bond quivers and stirs in response to Jack’s question, but the sensation is weighted with exhaustion.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step back—

The bond starts to fade again, flickering like a candle in the wind.

“ _David Jacobs_ ,” Jack commands, terrified, and he reaches deep into his center and _pulls_ —like he can anchor Davey to him through sheer force of will. “You are not allowed to fucking die. Do you hear me? So open your eyes right this _goddamn second._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt from @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside, but several people asked for a follow up to the first part! (Chapter 5, "You're Hurt!" Kiss 2) Hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	19. Forehead Kiss 2 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Jack,” Davey greets. He’s sprawled across the couch, head laying against one of the armrests and his toes tucked between the cushions, a paperback propped up against his chest. “How was work?”
> 
> Jack just looks at him. He doesn’t even know where to start.
> 
> He must make some kind of noise, or maybe it’s just that he waits too long to answer, because Davey glances over, chin tilted up in askance. He takes one look at Jack face and immediately places his book to the side, arms open in offering.
> 
> “Hey,” Davey says gently, looking up at Jack with soft, blue eyes. “Come here, darling.”

Jack lets his bag fall to the floor with a heavy _thud_ , kicks off his shoes and leaves them in a haphazard pile by the front door, then trudges his way into the living room.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets. He’s sprawled across the couch, head laying against one of the armrests and his toes tucked between the cushions, a paperback propped up against his chest. “How was work?”

Jack just looks at him. He doesn’t even know where to start.

He must make some kind of noise, or maybe it’s just that he waits too long to answer, because Davey glances over, chin tilted up in askance. He takes one look at Jack’s face and immediately places his book to the side, arms open in offering.

“Hey,” Davey says gently, looking up at Jack with soft, blue eyes. “Come here, darling.”

Jack staggers forward and all but collapses on top of him, head tucked against the hollow of Davey’s throat, body nestled between the vee of his thighs. Davey lets out a low hum as Jack settles in, his arms coming up to wrap around Jack’s torso, comforting and secure. He smells like lemon dish soap and coffee and he feels like warmth and safety and home, and Jack feels the weight of the day begin to slip from his shoulders.

Davey’s hands soothe down Jack’s sides, then slide up to cup around the back of his head, deft fingers massaging the knots at the base of Jack’s skull. Then those lovely hands shift even higher and Davey starts combing his fingers through Jack’s hair, his nails scraping lightly along Jack’s scalp with each pass, and Jack relaxes that much more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Davey murmurs, his voice nothing but a rumbling vibration against Jack’s cheek, a wisp of breath against Jack’s ear.

Jack shakes his head the barest amount, burrowing further into Davey’s chest. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to even _think_ about it. He just wants... he just needs...

Something soft and warm presses against his forehead and lingers there—Davey’s lips brushing delicately at Jack’s temple—and that last bit of tension Jack’s been holding finally eases, his whole body melting against Davey’s, his mind a hazy wash of sensation.

“I’ve got you, Jackie,” Davey whispers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @dime-novel-cowboy on tumblr, who needed something soft and fluffy after a hard day. Hope this helped! <3
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr @LiveSincerely


	20. Possessive Kiss (in the Rain) - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At that moment, Davey lifts up on his toes, trying to get at a particularly stubborn bit of debris caught in the corner of the gutters, and the new position only highlights the way his rain-soaked slacks cling to every last inch of him.
> 
> Rooster lets out a low whistle; Jack grits his teeth at the sound of it. _“Damn,_ that’s nice. I’d love to get my hands on an ass that swee—“
> 
> Jack shoots to his feet, so abruptly that the rest of Rooster’s comment is lost to the wind. He starts towards Davey, something hot and a little frenzied scorching through his veins.
> 
> “Hey, pal, that ain’t a good idea,” Rooster calls after him when he realizes Jack’s intention. “Like I said before, he’s already taken, and I hear the guy he’s courting ain’t too keen on people tryin’ta move in on his fella. He’s the leader of Manhattan, so you proba’ly don’t wanna get on his bad side.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Jack agrees, more of a growl than a word, not even turning to look back at the other boy as he stalks forward. “You _really_ don’t.”

It’s a sizzling hot afternoon, only made tolerable by another surprise summer rain shower. Jack’s leaning against a set of boxes the guys haven’t got to yet, sipping slowly at a canteen of water, ordered to ‘sit his ass down and rest for ten goddamn minutes, Jackie, or _I swear to god—‘_ and Jack’s long since learned not to argue with Davey when it comes to stuff like this.

His eyes track slowly around the square—there’s Racetrack and Albert bickering about the best ways to coil a sodden pile of rope, Hotshot, Sniper, and Smalls cleaning away broken shingles, pieces of trash, and random bits of laundry blown into the courtyard by the storm, Specs, Tommy Boy, Henry, Spot, and Myron working on securing a piece of fallen fencing back into place—but his gaze is always, inevitably drawn back to Davey.

He’s gotten his hands on an old broom one of the Newsies pulled outta some backroom, using his height to knocks leaves, sticks, and dirt out of the Brooklyn Lodging House’s gutters. Every few minutes he has to stop to push his sopping wet fringe out of his face, rivets of water streaming down the bridge of his nose and off the high points of his cheeks, and he stripped off his vest some half an hour ago due to the heat, leaving him in just his now-transparent button up, which is doing absolute fuck all to conceal the strong set of his shoulders and the lean lines of his back.

Jack’s not sure how long he’s been staring when a voice chimes up, “Yeah, he’s a looker, ain’t he?”

He turns to look: another Newsie has wandered over at some point while Jack was distracted, one that he hasn’t spoken to before. He’s about Jack’s height but looks to be a year or two younger, with a sharp shock of carrot orange hair and a face full of freckles, dressed in Brooklyn red and navy—Jack thinks he remembers someone calling him Rooster. He’s staring at Davey with open desire.

“What’s that?” Jack says, frowning.

“That guy you’re eyeing up—Davey, I think his name is?” Rooster says, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his across his chest, but never taking his eyes off Davey. “He’s really somethin’, huh?”

Jack feels his jaw start to clench, nostrils flaring. Rooster doesn’t seem to notice, continuing with, “I didn’t even wanna help with all this stupid, clean-up shit, but I sure am glad Spot made me come along, ‘cause the view more than makes up for the work. It’s just a fuckin’ shame that he’s taken, or else I’d go over there and... _introduce myself,_ if you know what I mean,” he finishes with a smirk.

“You would, would ya?” Jack asks, very evenly.

“Sure,” Rooster answers, easy as anything. “A fella as pretty as that? You don’t see that every day—gotta get ya kicks in as they come, ya know?”

“Right,” Jack grinds out.

At that moment, Davey lifts up on his toes, trying to get at a particularly stubborn bit of debris caught in the corner of the gutters, and the new position only highlights the way his rain-soaked slacks cling to every last inch of him.

Rooster lets out a low whistle; Jack grits his teeth at the sound of it. _“_ _Damn,_ that’s nice. I’d love to get my hands on an ass that swee—“

Jack shoots to his feet, so abruptly that the rest of Rooster’s comment is lost to the wind. He starts towards Davey, something hot and a little frenzied scorching through his veins.

“Hey, pal, that ain’t a good idea,” Rooster calls after him when he realizes Jack’s intention. “Like I said before, he’s already taken, and I hear the guy he’s courting ain’t too keen on people tryin’ta move in on his fella. He’s the leader of Manhattan, so you proba’ly don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, more of a growl than a word, not even turning to look back at the other boy as he stalks forward. “You _really_ don’t.”

As if sensing Jack’s approach, Davey sets his broom down and takes a step back from the outer wall, turning just as Jack stops in front of him. Davey looks at him from beneath the mop of sodden curls plastered to his forehead, then runs his tongue over his lower lip, licking away the raindrops that have gathered there. He raises an eyebrow: “I thought I told you to take a break—“

Jack curls a hand around Davey’s neck, palm splayed wide over the curve of his jaw, and draws him into a heated kiss. It’s slow and searing, Jack stepping closer and tilting Davey’s head just so—until he can press harder, press deeper—tongue sweeping in to plunder and devour and _claim._

 _“Jack,”_ Davey says, half scolding, half breathless. His mouth has gone deliciously kiss-swollen, his eyes a little dazed. “What was that for?”

Jack kisses him once more, chastely sweet, then pulls him in, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as his hands slide down to sit low on Davey’s hips. Over Davey’s shoulder he can see Rooster staring at them, wide eyed and stiff as a board. Jack pins him with a steely stare and a smile that’s all teeth, and the other boy goes starkly pale beneath his freckles.

“Maybe I just think you’re gorgeous,” Jack murmurs, lips brushing against Davey’s ear. “Maybe you’re just irresistible.”

“Uh huh,” Davey says, not fooled for a second. “What is it, really?”

“You’ve got somethin’ of an admirer.”

“Oh?” Davey says dryly, following Jack’s gaze over to where Rooster still sits, frozen. He arches an eyebrow and, because he can be just as much of a sarcastic asshole as Jack, gives a little wave. Rooster lets out a squeak, audible even at this distance, and scurries away, tail between his legs. “And what did he say that set you off?”

“Nothing worth repeatin’,” Jack rumbles, planting a kiss to Davey’s temple. “Don’t worry about it.”

Davey gives him a look, one that says that he’s not buyin’ what Jack’s sellin’ but is choosing to let it go for now. “Possessive bastard,” he comments affectionately. “You’re ridiculous, Jackie, love.”

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” Jack says with a shrug, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @deliciouspeachpirate on tumblr for the ask that inspired this!
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	21. Possessive Kiss 3 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah? Remind me anyway,” Jack rumbles, gaze flitting helplessly between Davey’s eyes and his mouth. “I wanna hear about all the ways you want me to be yours.”
> 
> “Oh, Jackie, darling,” Davey breathes against Jack’s lips. “You’re already mine.”

Jack has been trying to shake her off for the better part of an hour now. She’s pretty enough, he supposes, in the sort of detached way you recognize that a flower or painting is pretty enough, but he’d left ‘politely humoring’ and swan dived into ‘seriously irritated’ a while ago, and his patience is wearing _extremely_ thin.

“—and my father thought it was such a wonderful idea that it was implemented immediately, and now we ship our products to fifty-seven different countries worldwide.”

Jack makes a gesture that could _maybe_ be considered a positive acknowledgment if you tilt your head and squint real hard, but is honestly more of a grimace.

The woman—Kara, Kasey, Kaden? Jack’s not sure, but he does know that her last name is Perdue, as in Walter Perdue, as in Perdue House International because she _keeps mentioning it_ —barely seems to pause to breathe, continuing, “I know, right? Expansion has really taken off in the last two quarters. I told him right from the start, I said ‘Daddy, we really need to consider all the ways we can make the tax code work for us, not against us—‘“

Jack grits his teeth.

Just sit here and smile, he tells himself. The gallery needs sponsors, do not piss off the annoying rich lady, just let her paw at you and talk your ears bloody for a little longer...

Then he sees him.

Davey squeezes past the throngs of partygoers, patrons, and elderly arts aficionados, gorgeous as anything in a navy suit and dark tie, and pauses, using his height to scan the crowd, clearly searching.

“—and it took a bit of persuading but of course I managed to get them to see things my way—“

Davey does a 360° turn, and mid-way through his eyes land on Jack at the bar and the unwanted companion seated beside him. His eyes flicker to Karen—taking in her expensive dress, complicated hairdo, fancy jewelry, and the hand she’s all but glued to Jack’s bicep—and he makes a face.

‘Really, Jackie?’ Davey’s eyes ask.

Jack gives a little shrug. ‘You’re telling’ me, Dave.’

“—and then I said, ‘Well, of course we need to open new franchises in China! That’s an entire market we’re letting slip through our fingers and...’ Um, hello?”

“Good evening,” Davey says mildly. “May I cut in? I need to borrow my husband for a moment.”

Jack feels his eyebrows shoot up, but he quickly schools his expression. Kourtney, however, looks distinctly put out—the first change in demeanor Jack’s seen from her all night.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she blusters. “I didn’t realize... I’ll just leave you to it.”

She finally pulls her hand away, though not as quickly as Jack would’ve liked her to, and slinks away to find some other schmuck to latch onto.

“So I’m your husband now?” Jack asks, curling his fingers through the loops on Davey’s dress pants and tugging him to stand between the vee of Jack’s legs. “You shoulda told me sooner, sweetheart, I woulda got ya somethin’ nice.”

“I figured that would be the best way to chase her off without causing a scene, because of course the one night I have to work late is the night some rich socialite decides she wants you to be her latest boy toy.” Davey says, arms coming up to loop loosely around Jack’s neck. “But whenever you decide you have a question to ask me.... well, you know where to find me.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, hands sliding around to sit low on Davey’s hips, just shy of indecent. “You got somethin’ you’ve been waitin’ to tell me, Jacobs?”

“It’s nothing that you don’t already know,” Davey murmurs, stepping that tiniest bit closer, his eyes achingly blue beneath the flutter of his lashes.

“Yeah? Remind me anyway,” Jack rumbles, gaze flitting helplessly between Davey’s eyes and his mouth. “I wanna hear about all the ways you want me to be yours.”

“Oh, Jackie, darling,” Davey breathes against Jack’s lips. “You’re already mine.”

Davey kisses him long and slow and deep—like he has all the time in the world to savor the feel and taste and heat of it. He finishes devouring Jack’s mouth, cradling Jack’s face in his hands as he pulls away, but he leans back in to press one more kiss to Jack’s lips before he goes—feather light and somehow even more devastating for it’s gentleness.

“Wanna get out of here?” Davey asks, all darkened eyes and low, throaty voice.

“You... just got here,” Jack says, tongue darting out to wet his lips, more than a little dazed.

Davey arches an eyebrow. “Do you want to stay?”

“Hell- _fucking_ -no,” Jack says, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* hello, election anxiety, my old friend
> 
> Shout out to @king-of-the-tables on tumblr for the prompt. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely <3


	22. "You're Hurt!" Kiss 4 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey shifts a bit closer, thumb brushing lightly against Jack’s lower lip as he works.
> 
> “And picking a fight with the DeLanceys? God, you’re lucky they didn’t send the police after you. I swear, Jack, of all the dangerous, moronic stunts you could’ve pulled, this one really takes the cake—“
> 
> Davey happens to glance up, and whatever else he might’ve said dies away. Because Jack is _looking_ at him, and the sheer yearning in his eyes makes Davey’s breath catch in his throat.

Jack winces, flinching away. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Hold still,” Davey orders, tightening his grip around Jack’s wrist to hold him in place. “I’ve almost got it.”

He leans closer, doing his best not to block the last rays of light peeking in through the window, and finally manages to pull the last piece of gravel out of the heel of Jack’s hand.

_“Fuck,”_ Jack hisses through a grimace. “God, that stings.”

“Maybe that will teach you not to pick fights you can’t win,” Davey suggests, very evenly. “Idiot.”

“Aw, Dave,” Jack cajoles, offering him a crooked little half smile—the one that usually makes Davey’s heart race just looking at it. But right now Davey can’t see anything past the blood dribbling from his split lip, the scrapes and bruises that paint the side of his face in reds, blues, and purples. “Don’t be mad at me, I didn’t mean’ta get hurt.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Davey agrees, carefully wrapping a bandage around Jack’s hand and tying it off with a neat knot. “You never do. And yet, here we are.”

“They had it comin’,” Jack insists. “Not even a month since the strike and the DeLanceys are already back to their usual bullshit. Someone had to tell ‘em what for.”

“Sure,” Davey says dryly. He wets a rag and wrings out the excess, then starts carefully wiping the blood and grime off of Jack’s forehead, chin, and mouth. “And naturally, you had to tell them what for all by yourself, without telling any of us what you were planning or where you were going.”

Jack’s expression falters, unconsciously ducking his head as he avoids Davey’s gaze. “Uh...”

_“Stop moving,”_ Davey orders, curling his free hand around Jack’s jaw and tipping his head back towards the light. “Jack, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Davey **—”**

“Oh, wait, I know,” Davey continues. “You _weren’t_ thinking. You can’t have been. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone through with such a stupid fucking idea.”

He turns Jack’s head from side to side, checking for any other bits of dirt he may have missed. Satisfied that the wound is clean, he reaches for a clean cloth, maneuvering Jack’s head around for a better angle. 

“You’re smarter than this, Jackie,” Davey says, brow furrowed as he dabs gently at Jack’s split lip. “I know that you’re smarter than this. Running in swinging, half-cocked with no one to back you up? If any of the others had done something that reckless you would’ve strung them up by the ears.”

Davey shifts a bit closer, thumb brushing lightly against Jack’s lower lip as he works.

“And picking a fight with the DeLanceys? God, you’re lucky they didn’t send the police after you. I swear, Jack, of all the dangerous, moronic stunts you could’ve pulled, this one really takes the cake—“

Davey happens to glance up, and whatever else he might’ve said dies away. Because Jack is _looking_ at him, and the sheer yearning in his eyes makes Davey’s breath catch in his throat.

Jack’s eyes find his own and their gazes lock. Davey almost feels dizzy with it—with the depth and richness of it all—his heart pounding double-time in his chest.

Davey sways forward, almost unconsciously, and Jack mirrors him, throat working around a heavy swallow. It’s almost like a gravitational pull, the intensity of the way they’re drawn towards each other.

They both lean in, achingly slowly.

Jack’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth parting slightly in anticipation, but instead of closing that tantalizing distance, Davey presses a gentle kiss to Jack’s brow. 

He lingers there for several seconds, then pulls away.

Jack lets out a trembling exhale.

“Stop getting your face bashed in,” Davey commands softly, smoothing a hand through Jack’s hair, then lacing his fingers together at the nape of Jack’s neck. “I mean it, Jackie.”

“You’re killin’ me here, Dave,” Jack says, relaxing into Davey’s hands, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the inside of Davey’s wrist as he does.

“Depends on how you look at it,” Davey says, working his thumbs into the tense muscles of Jack’s neck. Jack sighs, melting that much more. “Maybe you just aren’t thinking about it the right way.”

Jack’s hands find their way to Davey’s waist: delightfully warm even through the fabric of Davey’s shirt. “And how, exactly, should I be thinkin’ about it?” 

“You should think of it as an incentive,” Davey murmurs. “An incentive to start taking better care of yourself. Because I’m not in the habit of kissing reckless idiots, and I’m not looking to start now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack rumbles, his eyes sparking with promise.

Davey licks his lips. “You do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings more aggressively* hELLo, pOLitiCaL aNxiEtY, mY oLD FriEnD
> 
> Thanks to @wide-eyed--wonderer on tumblr for the prompt. Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely <3


	23. "You're Hurt!" Kiss 5 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “His name is Jack Kelly, he’s twenty-seven years old, no allergies—not to any medication or anything else that I know of—”
> 
> Jack twitches, shakes his head and groans, because that’s not right, he’s not twenty-seven, he’s... he’s...
> 
> Fear hits like a lance to the heart because _he can’t remember._
> 
> Jack pries his eyes open. There’s a man kneeling next to him: twenty-ish, with dark curly hair. He’s dressed for sleep, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and around him there’s a large bed, a pair of nightstands, a dresser and an attached bathroom, but it’s all unfamiliar, and that sends another spike of panic surging through him because _who the fuck is that_ and _where the fuck is he?_

Jack wakes up with the taste of blood and bile in his mouth, lying on his side against a cold hardwood floor. His entire body is aching and it feels like his brain is leaking out his ears. He attempts to push himself up but he can’t even manage to pry his eyes open, each breath feeling like a massive effort.

Everything hurts.

At some point he becomes aware of a voice nearby, the quick, worried tone of it breaking through the haze of pain: “—he’s running a high fever and he’s thrown up at least once. I think he fell trying to get to the bathroom, I found him lying on the floor next to the bed. He looks like he’s breathing okay, but he’s in and out of consciousness and doesn’t seem to really know what’s going on.”

There’s a pause, then Jack feels a hand on his forehead, the touch gentle but trembling. Jack doesn’t know what to make of it, can’t hardly think around the throbbing in his skull. He knows that something’s wrong, that he’s sick—like, _bad sick_ —but there’s something else too, something just... off in a way his battered brain can’t quite figure out.

“We’re on the third floor,” the man continues to someone. “And there’s no elevator, so they’ll need to.... yes, of course. Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

The man stops, fingers tapping carefully against the side of Jack’s face.

“Jackie? Are you with me?”

Jack lets out a weak moan.

“The ambulance is on its way but I need you to stay awake, okay?”

The man sounds worried, deeply worried. Jack wonders how bad off he must be that total strangers sound like they’re about to cry just looking at him.

“Tryin’,” Jack grunts. “Hot. Burning up.”

“He says he's burning up,” the man says, and Jack realizes that he must be on the phone with 911. “I don’t know. He’s been sick all week but we thought it was just a cold—“

Another pause. “His name is Jack Kelly, he’s twenty-seven years old, no allergies—not to any medication or anything else that I know of—”

Jack twitches, shakes his head and groans, because that’s not right, he’s not twenty-seven, he’s... he’s...

Fear hits like a lance to the heart because he _can’t remember._

Jack pries his eyes open. There’s a man kneeling next to him: twenties, maybe, with dark hair that curls up at the ends. He’s dressed for sleep, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and around him there’s a large bed, a pair of nightstands, a dresser and an attached bathroom, but it’s all unfamiliar, and that sends another spike of panic surging through him because _who the fuck is that_ and _where the fuck is he?_

“I’ve got him on his side, just in case he throws up again,” the man continues to the dispatcher. “He’s conscious, he’s talking a little. He... what?”

He nods to himself, then looks down at Jack. “Jack, do you know what day it is?”

Jack hesitates, because he’s not sure how much he should admit to. But the man’s face is painted with nothing but concern, so he rasps out, “Night time.”

“Do you know where you are?”

Thinking is difficult. Jack manages, “Your... bedroom?”

 _“Our_ bedroom,” the man corrects, but his voice breaks on the last syllable. “Jack, do you know who I am?”

Jack’s eyes slide away, the world starting to tilt around him. The man leans even closer, slapping lightly at Jack’s face—Jack flinches away.

“Jack, what’s my name?” he demands.

Jack shakes his head the barest amount. “I don’t... I don’t...”

“He doesn’t know who I am,” the man says into the phone.

There’s a long silence—the man listening intently to whatever’s being said on the other side of the line.

Jack becomes aware of his heart racing in his chest, his breaths coming out in short, ragged pants.

“Jack,” the man says, and if he’s trying to mask the terror in his voice he’s doing a shit job of it. “My name is David, I’m your husband.”

 _“No,”_ Jack chokes out. “I don’t... I’m not...”

“Breathe, Jack,” The man— _David_ —orders. Jack automatically sucks in a long breath. “You’re sick, you’re confused, but the paramedics are on their way and everything’s going to be okay.”

Jack shakes his head. His tongue tastes like copper and pain.

“Jack, look,” David says, curling a hand into Jack’s and lifting it into Jack’s line of sight. _“Look.”_

Two hands, pressed together, one pale and one tan. It takes Jack a moment to figure out what he’s getting at, but then he notices them—the matching bands of gold encircling both of their ring fingers.

“What?” Jack says. “No. That’s not... You... I... What?”

“I’m your husband,” David says. “We’re married. The ambulance is coming and it’s going to be okay.”

“But I’m not married,” Jack insists, desperately confused. Because he isn’t. He isn’t. He’d know if he was, _he’d know..._

He doesn’t know.

“My head,” Jack mutters, the realization finally clicking into place. “I don’t remember... somethin’s wrong.”

“I know, darling,” David says. “But I’m here and I’ve got you. Help is coming.”

His brain hurts. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to think, can barely process what’s happening.

“Is there something I can do?” David asks. “Something that would help, something you could trust... Wait, we can— _Don’t move.”_

He lurches to his feet, darts to one of the nightstands. He comes back with a second cellphone: one of those fancy, expensive smart phones that Jack can’t afford on a freelance artist budget.

He scrolls through the contacts and dials a number. It rings and rings.

“What the fuck do you want, Kelly?” Spot grunts.

“Jack is sick,” the man says. “He’s got a fever and is really disoriented. I’ve already called an ambulance, but he doesn’t know who I am.”

“What?” Spot asks. “You— what? What?”

“I need you to tell Jack that it’s okay to trust me,” the man says, placing the phone on the floor next to Jack’s mouth.

“Jack, you good?” Spot asks, and that’s definitely Spot, a hint of worry bleeding through his usual gruffness.

“Am I married?” Jack asks, because that feels like the most important question.

“Yeah, you got married, like, five years ago,” Spot answers. “I offered to walk you down the aisle but I settled for Best Man.”

“What’s his name?” Jack asks. “My husband, or whatever—what’s his name?”

“David,” Spot answers. “His name’s David.”

“And he’s good?” Jack presses. “I love him?”

“Do you—?” Spot makes a strangled noise. “He’s the love of your fucking life.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Oh, okay.”

And the world goes dark.

The next thing he’s aware of is the stark whiteness of the hospital ceiling, of beeping machines and an IV in his arm. There’s a man sleeping in a chair next to his bed, head burrowed in the sheets and his hand clasped in Jack’s own.

“Davey,” Jack whispers.

Davey lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion.

Jack attempts a smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Davey raises Jack’s hand to his face and presses a trembling kiss to his palm, a wave of fresh tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dave, please don’t cry,” Jack murmurs, stroking his thumb against Davey’s cheek. “‘M alright.”

“You didn’t know who I was,” Davey chokes out. “You were _scared of me,_ and I thought...”

“C’mere,” Jack beckons, gesturing to the clear space on the mattress next to him.

Davey shuffles closer, sweeping Jack’s hair off his forehead with a tender touch.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “You’ve already woken up a few times but you didn’t seem as... _with it_ as you do now.”

“It’s still fuzzy,” Jack admits. “But I think I’ve got all the important bits.”

“Do you remember how we met?” Davey asks.

“Remind me?” Jack says. “You always tell it better than I do, anyhow.”

“It was our junior year of high school,” Davey starts, thumb brushing over Jack’s knuckles. “We were in the same year but I had only just moved there—“

“I had Studio Art,” Jack interjects, suddenly sure of it. “And you were in the English class across the hall. I used to watch you from the window.”

Davey smiles. “Then what happened?”

And Jack tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside on tumblr for the prompt!
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely


	24. Teasing Kiss - Sprace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll take a break in a little while, promise.”
> 
> “Or, you could take a break now,” Tony says, slinking over the arms of Sean’s desk chair and straddling his lap, “and come shower with me. It’ll probably make you feel better.”
> 
> “Tony,” Sean says, but it’s a token protest in all the ways that matter, his hands falling away from his laptop to curl around Tony’s hips.
> 
> “The hot water, the steam... _me,”_ Tony murmurs, hands trailing all along Sean’s chest. “Just twenty minutes.”

Sean is so focused that he doesn’t notice Tony until he loops his arms around him, hooking his chin over Sean’s shoulder to peer down at his laptop.

“How’s it goin’?”

“It’s goin’,” Sean mutters, patting absently at Tony’s arms with one hand, still typing away with the other.

“Any chance you’re nearing a stopping point?” Tony asks, playing with the collar of Sean’s shirt. “I’m gonna grab a shower before dance and I was thinkin’ maybe you could join me?”

“I can’t, sugar,” Sean says. “I gotta get this finished before Friday.”

“You’ve been working on it all day,” Tony points out, and he’s pouting a little, but there’s also a hint of honest concern in his eyes. “You could probably use a break, babe, you know how your back gets when you sit at your desk for too long.”

“I know,” Sean mutters, deleting the last paragraph on his document and rephrasing it. “I’ll take a break in a little while, promise.”

“Or, you could take a break now,” Tony says, slinking over the arms of Sean’s desk chair and straddling his lap, “and come shower with me. It’ll probably make you feel better.”

“Tony,” Sean says, but it’s a token protest in all the ways that matter, his hands falling away from his the keyboard to curl around Tony’s hips. Tony hums, settling down that much more.

“The hot water, the steam... _me,”_ Tony murmurs, hands trailing all along Sean’s chest. “Just twenty minutes.”

Sean can’t resist slipping a hand up the back of Tony’s shirt. _“Tony.“_

“Fifteen, then,” Tony offers, pressing into the touch with a soft sigh. “Not as long as I wanted but I can make it work.”

“I want to,” Sean says, and he really, _really_ does. “But I gotta get this done, and if I stop now I might’as well call it quits for the night.”

Tony’s roaming hands still as he considers this.

“Alright,” Tony says, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I hear ya.” And he leans in for a kiss.

It’s slow and deep, Tony licking right into his mouth like he plans to take up permanent residence there, his hands curling around either side of Sean’s jaw so he can kiss him harder.

Sean tilts his head up, kissing back just as strongly, and when Tony presses forward, his hips circling gently, teasingly, against his own, Sean can’t help but pull him closer, hands shifting down to palm at Tony’s ass.

Tony hums approvingly, nipping lightly at Sean’s lower lip, and Sean groans, arching up into him that much more. Tony kisses him even harder, his fingers going deliciously tight in Sean’s hair, then with one last bite he pulls away.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” Tony murmurs against his mouth, eyes dark and face flushed, then slides, cat-like, out of Sean’s lap. “Don’t work too hard.”

“You little shit,” Sean breathes. He’s more affected than he’d like to admit, his heart beating frantically in his chest. _“Fuck,_ Tony.”

“Changed your mind, then?” Tony asks, smirking like the goddamn minx he is.

Sean pushes his chair away from his desk and rises to his feet.

“Get your ass in the shower,” he growls.

Tony laughs. “You first, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @readyrogueone on tumblr for the suggestion.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! @LiveSincerely :D


	25. Teasing Kiss 2 - Javid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Careful, darling,” Davey teases, leaning in a little more, but not quite close enough. “Wouldn’t want to start something you won't have time to finish.”
> 
> "Then give me something that's worth comin' back to finish," Jack says, eyes flashing with challenge.

“You wanna come inside for a second?” Davey asks.

Leaning against the railing, Jack visibly hesitates.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he reluctantly decides. “I’m s’pposed ta be meetin’ Crutchie and Racetrack over by the bridge in a bit, and if I get caught up here with you again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Oh, okay,” Davey says, moving towards his bedroom window. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Well, hey, I didn’t say I hadta leave just yet,” Jack says, grabbing Davey by the waist and pulling him back. “We still got a little time.”

“You _just said_ you had somewhere to be,” Davey says, but he lets himself be drawn into Jack’s arms anyway. "That's a decent walk from here, I don't want you to be late."

“They can wait ten more minutes,” Jack says with a smirk. “I ain’t got my fill of ya yet.”

“What, and you think after another ten minutes you'll be good and done?” Davey asks wryly, one hand drifting up of its own accord, his knuckles brushing against the wing of Jack’s collarbone as he fiddles idly with the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, I ain't never gonna be done with you, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, his eyes shading a touch darker with the declaration, which is far more enticing than it has any right to be. “But ten more minutes might be enough to tide me over for a little while.”

“Is that right?” Davey asks, keeping his voice light as he steps closer.

Jack’s eyes flicker down towards Davey’s mouth for a long moment, his throat working almost imperceptibly as he swallows, then slowly lift back up to hold his gaze.

“That’s right,” he agrees. His voice has dropped somewhere low in his chest.

“And how do you think we should spend these ten minutes?” Davey continues, letting his fingers dance along the collar of Jack’s shirt.

“I gotta couple ideas,” Jack rumbles in answer, his hands sliding down to curl more firmly around Davey’s hips.

“Careful, darling,” Davey teases softly, leaning in a little more, but not quite close enough. “Wouldn’t want to start something you won't have time to finish.”

"Then give me something that's worth comin' back for," Jack says, eyes flashing with challenge.

Davey arches an eyebrow, considering, then finally closes that last bit of distance between them, cupping his hands around Jack's face and dragging him into a rough, scorching kiss.

He doesn't just give Jack what he's asked for, he makes Jack _work for it:_ he bites his way into Jack's mouth, swallows up his answering groan, then angles his head and takes Jack's lower lip between his teeth, all while his hands trail languidly across the broad planes of Jack's chest.

Jack's hands are like vices around his hips, and he works a thigh between Davey's legs as he pulls him closer, his mouth open and eager against his own. Davey presses in once more—kissing hot and hard and deep—then finally breaks away.

"You're going to be late," Davey says, licking at his lips just to watch how Jack's eyes dart down to follow the motion.

"You goddamn tease," he breathes, chest heaving. _"Fuck,_ Dave."

"You asked for it, Jackie," Davey murmurs, panting a little as well. He leans in for one last lingering kiss. "Now, go."

Jack reaches up and takes Davey's chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding him firmly in place. There's a threat in his eyes that Davey aches to see fulfilled.

"This ain't over, David," Jack says, his voice like gravel. "Not by a long shot."

Davey shivers, a thrum of anticipation sparking up his spine. "Promises, promises."


End file.
